


Fever Pitch

by liamsfreckles



Category: One Direction, Zayn Malik (Musician), liam payne - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Doctor!Liam, Fluff, Football player!Zayn, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, a lot of dorky smart liam, football au, loads of zayns family, sorry for the lack of harry, there might be a sex swing involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamsfreckles/pseuds/liamsfreckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“How do you feel? When you come back to a place like Bradford?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“I think it’s massively important, like, for me that I come back here. ‘Cause it grounds me, as a person. Just reminds me of why I started doing what I did.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Football?”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>A grin. “Yeah. Football.”</i></p><p> </p><p>A Football AU where Zayn Malik is at the tail end of his illustrious career and going back to where it all began, Liam Payne is the one he never saw coming, and how one injury could change Zayn’s life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“How do you feel? When you come back to a place like Bradford?”_

_“I think it’s massively important, like, for me that I come back here. ‘Cause it grounds me, as a person. Just reminds me of why I started doing what I did.”_

_“Football?”_

_A grin. “Yeah. Football.”_

**

He looked over the crowd of reporters and photographers that had gathered for his press conference, his body a tight bundle of nerves. No matter how long he’d been a player, or how many times he did one of these – he still felt as though he could throw up at any moment.

“Okay, everyone. At this time Zayn will take your questions. Please stand up, state your name and the publication you work for, and we will try and get to as many of you as possible.”

Zayn blindly reached for the water bottle, trying to keep his eyes on the crowd as a petite woman with shoulder-length brown hair stood up and took the mic from Andrew - the man running the conference.

“Isla Anderson, from _The Guardian_.” She said into the mic, and Zayn smiled. “Zayn, you were doing so well with Chelsea, a team you’ve been with for over eight years. Why did you decide now was the time to go to Bradford City?”

His hand curled around the water bottle, making little dents in the plastic with the tips of his fingers.

“I think,” he leaned into the mic, his brow creasing ever so slightly. “Chelsea was a big part of my success, and I will always hold them to the highest standards of how they treat their players and staff. This is purely a personal move, yeah? I’ve been in the league now almost eleven years - I am certainly no spring chicken –“ A few of the reporters in the crowd chuckled, and Zayn’s smile grew wider. “It just felt like – the right time to come home. To the place where it all started.”

The woman smiled at him and mouthed a _thank you_ before sitting down, handing the mic back to the Andrew. He made his way over to a gentleman who had his hand in the air, and passed the mic to him.

“Mike Connolly from _Sky Sports_ ,” The man said, his Scottish accent heavy. “Zayn, what does this move mean in terms of availability to the England team?”

Zayn chanced a glance to Niall, who was standing behind the scenes, over to his left. ‘ _Up to you_ ’ the blonde mouthed, and Zayn quirked a grin before turning back to the mic.

“It’s always been an absolute dream to play for England. I’ll happily continue to do so, if they’ll have me.” He answered, twisting the cap off the bottle in his hands. “So, as of right now I am still available to the England squad.”

The conference went on much like this, and Zayn answered question after question about his play, or any injuries the public should know about (to which Zayn politely declined to answer. He was fit as a fiddle, but there were some things he liked to keep close to his chest), and what he planned to do when he was finally back home in Bradford. 

“Probably eat a lot.” He laughed, dark eyes crinkling. “Me mum hasn’t stopped talking about this for weeks, I’m gonna be fed proper as soon as I’m in the door.” 

The crowd laughed with him, and he felt his bones settle. This had been the right decision. He owed Chelsea for everything when it came to his success. He’d won titles with them, helped them build the franchise again, and became an ambassador for their youth program. When it came to the end of his contract, it was never something that felt wrong when he asked them for the trade to Bradford City. 

And they gave it to him. They didn’t have to – but they did. And that was something Zayn was infinitely grateful for.

“We have time for one last question, and I am going to come over here…” Andrew said, making his way down towards the front of the crowd, to a man with his hand in the air. The man took the mic from Andrew and stood slowly.

“Jason Rhodes, _ESPN_.” Jason said, glancing up to Zayn, who smiled at him in return. He’d done interviews with Jason before. “Zayn – you did mention that you’ve been in the Premier League now for the better part of ten years, and you certainly have had quite a career. Has retirement come up yet at all?”

Zayn licked over his lower lip, before leaning into the microphone. “No, not at all.” He said with conviction. And he was being honest. “I think if I can still play, and contribute to my team, then I don’t think retirement is in my vocabulary just yet.”

There were quiet murmurs around the room, and Zayn sat back in his seat, shooting a glance to the blonde in the wings, who then caught Andrews’ attention, making a slicing motion across his neck.

“Alright folks – we’re all done here. Thank you for coming out, and any additional information will be emailed out to you in the next few hours.” Andrew said into the mic, before the lights in the room came up.

“Thanks guys.” Zayn said, lifting his hand for a small wave.

He pushed his seat back and stood up, just as Niall came over to the platform, adjusting his glasses. “Y’did good, mate. Smashed it.”

“Fuck, I hate the word retirement.” Zayn groaned, taking a long pull of the water before capping it. “Remind me to ban retirement talk the next time one of these happens, Niall.”

“Sorted.” Niall replied with a grin on his face. “You’re starting to sound like an old man, Z.”

Zayn snorted. “Fuck you, Horan.” He said affectionately, watching as the crowd filtered out of the room. 

Niall tugged on his elbow and they fell into step, hopping off the platform to make their way to the garage. 

“So, the rest of your stuff from the condo will be sent out tomorrow to your new place.” Niall told him as they made their way down a hallway towards the lifts. “Are you heading up there now?”

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, I think I will. Spend time with me family this weekend. You’re more than welcome to join.” He replied, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. He really needed to learn to turn off twitter notifications, and he cringed at his lockscreen. 

“Don’t need to ask me twice.” Niall said, pressing the button for the lift. “I’ll have to come up later, though. Have to finish up paperwork here before I go anywhere. Something about having problematic football clients…”

“I’m not problematic.” Zayn huffed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “That would be _Louis_. His middle name is problematic.”

Niall looked pensive. “You’re probably right. You didn’t throw a shit fit when Adidas only sent you a six figure endorsement offer.”

“Maybe if he stopped wearing Nike hoodies while shopping at Tesco.” Zayn laughed. He loved Louis. He did, but the man was a menace. 

“Shit. That reminds me.” Niall pulled out his own phone and tapped on the screen. “You have YOUR meeting with Nike on Tuesday. Something about you setting up your footie school in Bradford? They’re on board.”

Zayn had been pushing to have a community centre focused on football and sports built up in his hometown. He was putting in a lot of his own money to get the project off the ground, while his father was the overseer of building permits and locations. It was something that was very near and dear to his heart, and finally it seemed to be gaining traction.

“Sick.” He said, throwing an arm around Niall’s shoulders as the doors to the lift opened. “We’ll call it the Niall Centre for Kids Who Can’t Football Good.”

“Fuck you, Malik.”

**

The village of Thackley was a small suburban area just to the North of Bradford. And although he did not grow up anywhere near this area, Zayn knew it very well.

Mostly because in his much younger years – before football and fame – he and his _boys_ would come up and admire the large stone houses, daydreaming about the days where they’d leave everything behind and get their own.

It took him years, and a lot of hard work, but he did it. And now he was home.

He drove down the private lane towards his new home: his agent - Niall - always believed that property was a worthwhile investment, and had helped him find a _decent_ space.

“Five bedrooms, Ni? I’m one person.” Zayn laughed as he glanced through the front windshield of his Range Rover to the massive property that seemed to span out for miles. “How much did this set me back, anyway?”

Niall snorted, and Zayn could almost picture the blonde rolling his eyes through the phone. “Listen. When you do finally decide to settle down, it’ll be a great place for a family. Until then, I plan on being over as much as I possibly can.” The Irishman said, no trace of humour in his tone. “You have an entertainment _building_ , Zayn. Just be happy I’m your agent and didn’t take the place for myself.”

Zayn exhaled, rolling the car to a stop. “An entertainment building does sound kinda sick.”

“I know it does.” Niall agreed. “Have a look around and let me know how amazing I am later.”

“You already know you’re the shit.” Zayn chuckled, cutting the engine. “I’ll ring you in a bit. Thanks again, Ni.”

He really knew nothing about houses. 

The property really was huge. He had no idea what the square footage was, or if this meant he was now a Lord, but Niall really did come through. The house was stone built, with tons of parking in the front, and around the side. There was a well-kept garden (to which, Zayn thought wryly, was not going to last under his care – unfortunately.) that surrounded the base of the house, filled with bushes and ferns. 

To the right of the house, he could see part of the heated outdoor pool, surrounded by a black wrought-iron gate – and beyond that, a whole lot of _space_. He ran a hand through his mess of freshly dyed hair and pursed his lips. Just from the little he saw, he was suddenly missing the cramped space of his one bedroom condo back in London.

It had been years since Zayn had lived in his hometown. Of course, he came home to visit his family for birthdays and holidays, but he had spent a majority of his playing career in London. Maybe he’d have to get dogs. Many dogs, that would be able to run around the grounds, and keep him company.

He pursed his lips and opened his car door, slipping out of the drivers seat. It was uncharacteristically warm for May, and Zayn hoped the house had central air…

He closed the door behind him and rounded the car to the boot, where he opened it to grab his duffel bag and knapsack. He’d have to do with what he had for the next 24 hours, with the rest of his stuff coming sometime the next day.

He wrinkled his nose. Shit. “I need groceries.”

He didn’t remember adulting to be this difficult. 28 and struggling to remember the basics.

\--

The inside of the house was _breathtaking_.

Niall really had outdone himself. Zayn would have been perfectly happy to stay at his parents place for a few weeks - especially since training camps didn’t start up for another month – until he’d found a modest spot, but Niall had insisted on doing this for him. 

_“You’re not only my best client, but me best mate: so shut up and let me do this for you, you dick.”_ Were Niall’s exact words.

And the Irishman did not disappoint. 

Zayn wasn’t really a flashy person. Sure, he liked to indulge every once in a while, but he was more about giving than receiving, and making investments when the time was right. The house – while very big – was not overly flashy. White painted walls, exposed brick and wood. It was like his condo, but on a much, much bigger scale.

He adjusted the strap of his duffel on his shoulder and made his way up the staircase, eyes flitting around. His art pieces were coming with the rest of his belongings, but he was already mapping out placements in his head. 

From what Niall told him, there were five bedrooms in total: three on the second floor, one on the main floor, and one in the basement. What he was going to do with five bedrooms was beyond him, but he was sure Niall was going to be moving in by the end of the week.

He walked by the two smaller rooms, along with a communal bathroom, towards the end of the hallway to a set of double doors. Quirking a brow, he reached out for both handles and pressed down on them at the same time, pushing them open. 

“Holy shit.” He murmured, eyes widening. 

The master bedroom was _huge_. Open concept, with large windows along the west facing wall, giving him an amazing view of his backyard and pool. The bed sat in the middle of the room – a low framed, king size – with grey and black bedding. Across from the bed, on the opposite wall, was a flat-screen television, with a full gaming console. There was a giant red bow on the television, and as Zayn padded closer to it, he noted the card attached to the screen as well:

_'don't say I never did anything for you, ya absolute menace. Welcome home. - N'_

“Going for agent of the year or summat...” Zayn muttered to himself with a grin, setting his duffel bag down at the foot of the bed. He shrugged off his knapsack and tossed it onto the bed, before exploring the bedroom a little more.

He had a walk-in closet, which – he was a little more excited about than was absolutely necessary. He wasn't by any means a _neat_ person, but he did like making sure all his shoes had a nice space. 

Off the closet, was the ensuite bathroom.

Zayn never really understood the idea of huge bathrooms. He showered, did his business, and brushed his teeth. He didn't need a stand-alone shower, a bathtub, _and_ a jacuzzi, along with two sinks: but he guessed it was nice? His mum would absolutely love it, that was for sure.

He fished his phone from his back pocket and took a photo of the bathroom, grinning as he attached it into a text to his mum. 

_'Just got in. Could probably live in the bathroom alone! Dinner 2morrow? Xx'_ He typed out before sending it off to her.

He pocketed the phone again, and padded back out into the bedroom, scratching short nails over the back of his head. He was tempted to take a hot shower and have a nap before trying to figure out dinner for himself and Niall. 

As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out again, assuming it was his mum – only to see Niall's name flash up on the screen. He pressed the accept button, and held the phone up to his ear.

“D'ya have a tracking device on me or something?” Zayn laughed, easing himself down onto the bed. He sighed – it felt glorious.

“Nah, I'm just really fuckin' good at what I do.” Niall cackled in reply. “You in, then? S'not bad, huh? I figured I'd let you do your thing with it, seeing as you hate the way I decorate.”

Zayn snorted, lying back down onto the bed, his free hand resting against his chest. “Your idea of decorating is a painting that I gave you last Christmas – and that's it. That's all you've done.”

“I have a Zayn Malik original. I can't clutter something like that up.” Niall huffed. “Listen – m'in the car and still about an hour and a bit out: d'ya want me to stop and grab anything for you?”

“Nah, just get here.” Zayn replied, drumming his fingers against his chest. “We can figure shit out once you're here. I might have a shower and a kip, though.”

“Alright, rest up.” Niall agreed, and Zayn laughed when Niall seemed to lean away from his phone to yell at other drivers, before coming back. “I've packed a few xbox games and that bottle of Veuve you gave me for m'birthday. We'll go all out like we're 21 all over again.”

Zayn bit the inside of his cheek. “With me throwing up in your bathtub and you passed out upside down on the couch?”

“Fuckin' right, Zee. Just like old times!” Niall crowed. “See you in an hour – be ready, bitch!”

\--

The shower and nap seemed to do Zayn wonders. He woke up 45 minutes later feeling a whole lot better than he had when he'd pulled up to his new home, and quite ready to enjoy an evening with his oldest friend and agent. 

He and Niall had started out in football together – same draft year and everything. Niall had a history of knee problems, though nothing ever significant enough to stop him from playing. He was having a stellar rookie season with Man City – until a tackle gone wrong. Blew out his MCL and ACL – and his knee was never the same.

Doctors had tried everything. Niall had tried everything. Had to retire from football at the age of 20.

So, Niall took it upon himself to become a player-agent. Signed Zayn as his first client, and the rest was history. He knew that Niall wished that he could be out there on the pitch with him, game in and game out – and so he took a little of that with him each time he stepped out onto the field. 

He dedicated his first winning season to Niall. He'd probably dedicate his last. 

He rummaged through his duffel bag for a pair of grey joggers and a white t-shirt, pulling them on one at a time. He padded into the bathroom to check out his hair – he was due for a cut, that was for sure. It was getting long again, the blonde starting to grow out. He ran his fingers through it, pushing it back only to have it fall back into his eyes. 

He huffed. Was just Niall, anyway. 

He made his way down the stairs, just as Niall burst through the front door, all bright smiles and electric eyes, his arms thrown wide as he stepped into the foyer.

“The party is here!”

“Thank fuck.” Zayn drawled, shaking his head slightly. “Didn't want to start without you.”

“Of course. Ain't no party like a Niall Horan party.” Niall grinned, reaching over to pat Zayn's cheek. “Luckily for you, you know a Niall Horan, and this party is going to be crazy.”

“With all two of us.” Zayn snorted, taking Niall's duffel bag from him.

“We're the two best friends that anyone could ever have, mate.” Niall said firmly, already making his way down the hall towards the kitchen. Zayn put Niall's bag down next to the stairs, and jogged to catch up with the Irishman. 

He hadn't really gone through the main floor when he came in, and gave a low whistle as he entered the open-concept kitchen.

Dark grey granite countertops, with flashy brushed-chrome appliances. Exposed brick for the backsplash, and Zayn sighed. With his sister being in the interior design trade - he regretted knowing more about this than he really should.

“May have gotten someone to bring in some groceries before you got ‘ere.” Niall admitted, pulling open the fridge. “Because I know you too fuckin’ well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayn laughed, rounding the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“It means you wouldn’t have gone to get any until at least two weeks from now.”

Zayn shrugged. Probably. He wasn’t good with being the domestic type, yet.

“I figured we’d order pizza. I don’t start training until next week.” He muttered, taking a peek through the cupboards. They were stocked with all the goods, and he knew his mum would be pleased. 

“Not like it matters,” Niall snorted, setting two bottles of corona down on the counter. “I think you’re the same size you were when we first made it into the league. Lanky git.”

Zayn laughed, taking the bottles of Corona. He fished through his back pocket to find his keychain where his opener was, then popped both the caps off and handed one back to Niall. “Do you think I’m crazy?” He asked, glancing down to his beer.

Niall was thoughtful for a moment, taking a long pull of his beer. “No.” He finally said, licking over his lips. “And I mean it - just wished you had given me more time, selfishly. Was hard to get people to warm up to the idea of you leaving Chelsea when you announced it on Twitter. Without telling me.”

Zayn grinned around the lip of his bottle, tipping it back until the liquid hit his lips.

 

—

They sat in Zayn’s expansive backyard, feet propped up on chairs, with beer bottles strewn around the table, and an almost empty pizza box between them. Zayn’s evenings wouldn’t be like this in two weeks: he’d be back to a regimen dictated by team doctors (and him, if he was honest. He enjoyed keeping healthy and in shape during the season.)

The backyard even had a sound system built into the deck, and Niall hooked his phone up to it, letting the sounds of The Eagles create a perfect setting for their evening.

The sun was setting behind a line of trees just off in the distance, and Zayn took a deep breath in through his nose. “Me mum and baba are planning on coming by with me sisters tomorrow - you want to stick around? Safaa would probably love to see you.”

“Is your mum cooking?” Niall hummed, lolling his head to the side, his bright blues almost neon in the fading light. “Because, yes.”

“Sorted.” Zayn grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Just - don’t embarrass yourself in front of Doniya like last time.”

“Fuck, it was once.” Niall groaned. “Is she going to slap me when she sees me?”

“I make no promises.” Zayn replied, picking up his third - or was it his fourth? He couldn’t remember - beer. “But yes, probably.”

Niall opened his mouth to reply, when the shrill of his ringtone cut through the music. He popped out of his chair and half-jogged over to his phone, unplugging it immediately. 

“Hello this is Niall Horan.” He said, and Zayn grinned. He sounded like a telemarketer.

“Liam - hey mate, whats the craic?” Niall sang, and Zayn quirked a brow. “You close? Awesome. Yeah, no - he knows you’re coming.” Zayn’s eyebrows shot up higher, and Niall flipped him the bird. “Should be fine. Text me when you park. Alright, cheers mate.”

Niall ended the call, and plugged his phone back in, ignoring Zayn’s slightly confused glare.

“Horan…”

“Now, don’t be mad….”

“Niall, what did you do.” Zayn frowned, putting down his beer. “300 people aren’t showing up at my front door right now, are they?”

“No! No no - just Liam.” Niall replied, holding his hands up. “He’s - the new head athletic therapist for the team, and doesn’t know many people. Figured since you’re both new…”

“Niall…”

“…And single….”

“Ni _all_ …”

“I’m kidding!” Niall cackled, his cheeks red . “But seriously: he’s a decent lad, just looking to have another friend in the city. Figured you’d be a good friend to have.”

Zayn hummed and got up from his chair, collecting beer bottles in between his fingers. “Decent lad, huh.”

Niall picked up the pizza box, shrugging easily. “Decent.”

“You are - entirely too much sometimes.” Zayn laughed, making his way back into the house with the empties. 

“Oh come on! I’m not that bad. When have I ever been wrong?” Niall whined, poking Zayn in between his shoulder blades.

“Devin.” Zayn said bluntly, like the name was an expletive.

“You went out on five dates with him _and then_ called him a fame-hungry leech.”

“That’s because he was.” Zayn bit back a grin, tugging the corner of his mouth in between his teeth. “All he wanted to do was go to parties and fancy restaurants, he made my arm hurt…” _And he was a horrible kisser_ , but Zayn kept that to himself.

Niall sniffed, setting the pizza box down on the table. “M’not saying you sleep with the guy tonight, but maybe sleep with the guy at some point.”

“Remind me to fire you after this weekend is over.”

Niall cackled as he hobbled his way down the hallway, leaving Zayn to tidy up the rest of the empties, and store the leftover pizza in the fridge. He could hear Niall talking to someone - presumably Liam - in the foyer, and his brow wrinkled. It had been almost a year since he’d gone out on a date (since Devin, and he cringed), or had a good shag - but it wasn’t high up on his list. 

He was far too focused on making this a good year in the league. He wasn’t getting any younger, and even though he’d said it wasn’t going to be his last - there was that looming cloud of retirement that hung over his head. 

He huffed out a breath: no. He wasn’t going to think about it. Not yet, anyway.

He glanced up when Niall came back into the kitchen, his cheeks pushed up high with a grin. Behind him came another man, with a crinkly-eyed smile, dark brown eyes and hair. His eyes turned to saucers when they locked with Zayn’s, and Zayn lifted his hand in a small wave. 

“Oh shit.” Liam breathed, stopping on the other side of the island. “I mean - sorry - yes, wow. It’s - “ 

Niall laughed at him, sliding an arm around Liam’s shoulders. “Use your words, mate. Zayn - this is Liam - and Liam…this is,” he gestured towards Zayn, who eyed him wearily. “Well, you know who he is.”

Zayn took the few short steps around the island, holding his hand out to Liam. “S’nice to meet ya, mate.” He smiled, watching as Liam’s eyes got impossibly wider.

“I remember your numbers from your rookie season.” Liam blurted out, taking Zayn’s hand. Zayn’s smile grew wider, and Niall rolled his eyes. “I mean - yeah. Hi. Zayn. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“You’d think you hadn’t been working in the league for the past 5 years, Li.” Niall snickered.

Liam’s palm was slick against his own, and he squeezed the brunettes fingers gently, swallowing back the giggle that threatened to bubble up from his lips. He let his hand drop, and Liam lifted the hand to rub at the back of his own head.

“What club were you with before, Leeyum?” Zayn asked, turning back around to head to the fridge. He rummaged through to find three Coronas, setting them down on the counter.

“Arsenal.” Liam replied, shrugging out from under Niall’s teasing squeezes. “Bradford called me up at the end of last season and asked if I was willing to come on as their head athletic trainer. Suppose it was a good deal.”

Zayn grinned. “Good deal.” He murmured, fishing around for his bottle opener once more. “Well, it’ll be nice to know someone when training starts next week - don’t judge me this week, though.” He said, popping the tops on the beers. He pushed two of them towards Niall and Liam, before curling long fingers around the neck of his bottle.

“Not at all! I mean - you’re like. Perfect specimen.” Liam breathed, and Niall spat his mouthful of beer across the kitchen.

—

A rare, clear night set the scene, with the three of them sitting in Zayn’s backyard, surrounded by beer bottles, and Jimi Hendrix playing low on the speakers.

The more Liam became comfortable around Zayn, the more Zayn really enjoyed his company.

Turned out that Liam had once been signed to a junior contract at the age of 17 with Liverpool FC’s Academy Squad as a keeper. He decided after two years with the team, and not seeming to move forward - he would go to university to study sports medicine and kinesiology, with a minor in athletic therapy.

“Looks AND brains.” Niall snorted.

Liam grinned, looking down to his half empty bottle of beer. “Always was a go-getter.” He shrugged. “Kept me busy, worked my ass off - then Arsenal took me on for their internship program while I was finishing up me fourth year, and yeah - rest is history. Saved me from getting me arse kicked by you, anyway.”

Zayn was impressed.  “M’sure you could stop a few of my strikes these days. Not as limber as I used to be.” He admitted, making a show of rubbing his knee.

“Well, we’ll get you on a good regimen, eating properly - and I’ll have you playing like you are 18 again.” Liam said, voice laced with promise. 

“Shite if you can do that,” Niall piped up, sitting a little straighter in his chair. “I’d probably get a sick Christmas bonus this year.”

Zayn flicked a bottle cap at his agent, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. “Worried that I’m just gonna pack it in halfway through the season when I can’t do two-a-days?”

“M’more worried that you’re _not_ , and I am going to end up being with you for the rest of my life.” Niall retorted, his cheeks warm in the low light. “No offence, Z.”

“Love you too, dick.”

Niall got out of his chair, picking up the empty bottles on the table. “Gettin’ the next round. You two play nice.” He mumbled, gently elbowing the side of Zayn’s head as he passed.

Once Niall was back in the house, Liam sat up a little straighter in his chair, leaning his forearms against the patio table. Zayn noticed the tattoos that adorned both - amused that he and Liam seemed to have a similar taste in hand tattoos and sleeves. 

And there was this sudden rush of curiosity that flooded through him: he wanted to ask Liam about them - learn about what each one meant to him. He blinked slowly, shaking his head a little before leaning back. “Where are you staying, Li?” He asked instead.

“Oh.” Liam blinked, eyes widening slightly. “I’ve been given a hotel suite until I can find myself a flat. Team’s covering it, but I feel kind of weird about it, like.” He replied, pressing his fingertips together. “Gonna go check out a few places tomorrow, actually.”

Zayn hummed. “D’ya have a realtor? Someone to help you weed out the bad ones?”

“No?” Liam said, and it was more of a question than anything. “Should I?”

“Wouldn’t hurt. Niall and his realtor helped me find this place - maybe Niall can get you his info - m’kinda shite with remembering that stuff.” Zayn offered, quirking a smile. “If you want.”

“Wow - I mean - yeah, absolutely. Yes - if that’s no trouble.” Liam said, and his entire face lit up.  “That’d be ace, man. Thanks.”

Zayn smiled, and it was genuine. This really wasn’t like him: he didn’t normally take to strangers right away. He usually was the type to keep himself guarded, not give much away. Niall was the exact opposite - which was probably why Niall had so many friends - but since Niall liked Liam, (and okay, maybe because Liam was fucking _likeable_ ) Zayn also liked Liam.

He drew his finger around the rim of his bottle. “Niall plans on staying over tonight - and, well, I know this is probably going to sound weird, but might be easier if you stayed as well. Rather not have you drive after all this drinking.”

Liam’s smile was intoxicating on its own.

“It’s…are you sure, mate?” Liam asked, inching his chair closer. “I mean - I’ve only had three, and we’ve only just met, yeah? I don’t want you to feel like you have to…”

“Leeyum…” Zayn huffed, brows knitting together. “M’not asking.”

He could see Liam’s blush in the dim light. “Oh. Right then - sorted. Cheers, appreciate that.” He mumbled, making Zayn grin again.

Niall returned with the last of the beers, and set them down on the table. “Right, lads - we’ve now gone through all the beer, and I’ve got a bottle of Irish whiskey in the back of me car.  We gonna make a night of this, or what?”

“I’m in.” Liam shrugged, slanting his gaze to Zayn.

Zayn tipped his bottle towards the two of them. “Fuck it. Let’s do this.”

—

Zayn regretted everything.

His mouth was drier than the sahara desert - and tasted like stale beer and whiskey. He was sure he could hear the walls breathing, and his hair _hurt_. 

“Fuck you, Niall Horan.” He mumbled into his pillow, pressing his face into it. Niall had terrible ideas.

The three of them - from what Zayn remembered, anyway - finished off the beer, and a good bit of the 15 year old whiskey Niall had retrieved from his car.  They’d stumbled off to bed just before 5 AM, after exploring every room in Zayn’s new house - including watching ESPN Classic in Zayn’s home theatre.

And now he felt like death. Hot, sticky death.

He managed to flip himself over onto his back, sucking in a breath through his nose before exhaling through pursed lips.

“I swear. Need new agent.”

He lay there for an extra fifteen minutes, trying to get his body to adjust to being alive and hungover. When he finally felt somewhat balanced out, he pushed himself to a sitting position, blinking slowly.

He reached for his phone - which, he miraculously remembered to plug in before he went to bed. It was just past eleven, and Zayn groaned. His family was probably going to show up around 4 - so there wasn’t much possibility of going back to bed.

He pushed the covers off his body and slid his legs over the side of his bed, sighing through his nose as his feet touched hardwood. He gave himself another moment, then stood up and padded towards his ensuite.

It was a bright room, even without the lights on - as there were beautiful, large windows letting natural light in. Or, he would have found it beautiful had his head not been pounding. He fished around in his toiletries for his toothbrush and toothpaste, and his face wash, plotting Niall’s ultimate demise.

Once done, he padded back into his room and over to his duffel bag to retrieve a pair of basketball shorts, and a skaters tank, throwing them on. He dragged long fingers through his mess of hair - humming slightly as he worked out some tangles - taking one look in the wall-length mirror that was set next to the door.

He didn’t _look_ like death warmed over: so that was a plus.

As he made his way downstairs - he could hear Liam and Niall already chatting away in the kitchen. It was very unlike Niall, especially after a “good night” to be up before two, and it made Zayn’s brow furrow.

He wandered into the kitchen, to find Niall sitting at the island, while Liam seemed to have made himself at home, making a proper fry up over Zayn’s stove.

“There he is, the Bradford bad boy himself.” Niall crowed around the lip of his coffee mug.

“You’re a menace.” Zayn groused, flicking Niall’s ear as he passed him, zooming in on the coffee pot. “And no one has called me that in like - fifteen years. Let’s not bring it back, yeah?”

“Bradford bad boy?” Liam asked as he carefully flipped some eggs. “What’s that all about? Oh - before you have your coffee - put one of these,” he nodded his head towards a little cylinder container. “Into a glass of water, let it dissolve, then drink it back.”

Zayn’s eyes narrowed. Niall snorted. 

“Trust him, Z. He is the doctor, after all.”

Zayn picked up the container and flicked the lid open with his thumb. Inside were little round discs - not unlike antacids. His brow furrowed a little more, but he shook one out into his palm and went to retrieve a glass to fill with water.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Liam - he’s a bit of a fucking grump in the mornin’.” Niall hummed. “Hangover or not.”

Zayn dropped the tablet into the glass, before flipping Niall the bird, making the blonde cackle maniacally. 

“They’re Berocca tablets.” Liam offered by way of explanation. “Help you rehydrate while providing some needed vitamins. Usually I use milk thistle extract, but I didn’t have any on me.”

Zayn nodded carefully. “Cheers.” He murmured, watching the tablet pop and fizzle in the water. He chugged it back - it tasted like watery orange soda - and smacked his lips together.

He felt Liam’s hand rest against his shoulder, and he set the glass down on the counter as Liam squeezed. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night. Figured a fry-up and a bit of a hangover cure was a good way to repay you in some way?” He asked.

Zayn smiled, and it was genuine. Despite his cracking hangover, Liam was a little bit of brightness. Like Niall, but less annoying. “S’good, man. Thank you.” He replied, peeking at all the things Liam had on the go.

There were eggs, bacon (turkey, by the looks of it - to which Zayn was impressed) - and on the griddle, Liam had some of the biggest pancakes cooking that Zayn had ever seen.

“Oh.” Liam wheezed out a shy giggle. “Was up early - did a spot of shopping. Remembered you saying something that you liked turkey bacon because you didn’t eat the other stuff? Hope that’s alright.”

Zayn blinked owlishly. 

“You’re a god walking among mortals, Li.” Niall piped up from behind them. “Z, sit your arse down so we can get fed.”

Zayn fixed his cup of coffee - a little too much milk and 2 spoonfuls of sugar - before coming back around the island to sit down next to Niall. “M’gonna fire you today.” He mumbled, curling both hands around the steaming mug. “At some point. When my head stops pounding.”

“Do it after your mum feeds me at least, christ.”

“Seriously, I hate you.”

Liam fixed them all up plates, and join the two of them at the island. They chatted about the upcoming season, with Liam becoming more animated about his job, excited at the prospect of being the head athletic trainer, and to learn more about what he was capable of. Zayn only interjected every few mouthfuls - generally he wasn’t awake until at least his second cup of coffee, but Liam’s excitement was infectious. 

He insisted on clearing up the table and the kitchen, even though Liam balked. “You cooked, I clean. Niall’s fired so he’s basically just vapour right now.” He smirked as he set about putting plates and cutlery into the dishwasher.

“M’gonna remember this when you retire with less money than you’re worth.” Niall huffed, pulling out his phone.

Liam laughed behind his mug, brown eyes bright. “You sure, Zayn? I really don’t mind.”

Zayn waved him off, putting the last plate into the washer. “All done. Why don’t you ask Niall about that real estate agent? I gotta go make a call to me mum, and I’ll be back.”

He left the two of them to their own devices as he slipped out into the backyard, letting the early afternoon sun soak into his skin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts to find his mums number, pressing the little green phone next to her name.

She answered on the second ring.

“Good morning sunshine, you alright?”

“Morning, mum - all good, yeah. You?” He smiled, relaxing now - her voice like a blanket around his shoulders.

“Better now hearing your voice.” She replied, and he could hear his sisters in the background. “You calling to see what time we’ll be up there?”

“Mmhmm.” He murmured, scratching short nails against the back of his head. “Niall is going to be here, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, sunshine.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Your baba said we should be there around four - Doniya will be coming here first and we’ll drive over.”

He inhaled deeply. He was excited to see them all. It had been entirely too long. “Sounds good, mum. Can I do anything before you get here?”

They talked for another ten minutes, with Trish telling him all he needed to do was be there and be happy, which was so _her_. He missed these moments - when he was with Chelsea, it just felt like everything was constantly go go go. But when he finally moved home - back here? Everything slowed down. It was comfortable. 

This was the right decision.

He made his way back into the kitchen, finding Niall and Liam still sitting at the island. Liam had a pen and paper out, while Niall called out some names and numbers to him. 

“If ya want, we can go on Tuesday and check out some flats. Maybe if Zayn is tolerable by then, he can come, too.” Niall offered, glancing up from his phone.

Zayn snorted, and Liam slanted his gaze towards him, a small smile on his lips. “Me mum is more excited about seeing you, than she is me, by the way.” He said, retrieving his mug. “And yeah, I think I’m free on Tuesday.”

“Sorted!” Niall said, slapping the table. “And of course she is: I’m her favourite son.”

**

By the time Liam left mid-afternoon, Zayn had enough time to take a nice long shower, and a kip before his parents and sisters came by for dinner. Niall went off to do some work in Zayn’s office (a space that Niall said he totally set up with Zayn in mind, but Zayn knew better), while Zayn tried to figure out his shower.

It took him ten minutes to turn it on - and another three to get the right temperature, but it was worth it. The shower had multiple heads that sprayed water from every angle, and with amazing pressure. He stood there for a moment, letting the warm water relax his muscles, before setting about getting clean.

He thought back to the night before, and smiled a little. Liam was a good guy - genuinely smart and funny. And sure, maybe a little starstruck when he first met Zayn, but he couldn’t fault him for having a moment.

They’d talked at length about football - and why Liam had moved on. Liam had been quite good: but never good enough it seemed, to be called up to the big team. And he’d been smart enough to start at Uni while he was still playing, so it had been an easy transition for him.

There was something about the way Liam spoke - his calm demeanour and his crinkly eyes when he smiled - that intrigued Zayn. And he frowned.

“Damn you, Horan.” He muttered, grabbing his body wash.

**

Zayn’s family was his life force.

No matter how good a footballer he was, or how much money he made - or how many charities he was a part of, the only real validation he ever needed was from his family. To know they loved him, supported him. It was the best feeling in the world.

He stood in his open doorway as his family piled out of two cars, biting back a grin at the delighted squeals and gasps from his siblings as they took in his new home.

“Holy shit, bro!” Waliyha called as she shut the car door. “Did you marry into the mafia or something?” 

“Waliyha.” His father warned, though there was a slight grin on his face.

“You can thank Niall for this.” He called back, opening his arms as Safaa came running at him, encompassing her into a hug. 

He pressed his nose into her hair and squeezed his youngest sister tightly, as the rest of them made their way towards them, and he smiled over her head. 

They exchanged hugs and kisses, with Yaser patting his cheek fondly. A sense of home curled warmly in his belly, and he ushered them all inside, slinging an arm around his mum’s shoulders.

“It looks lovely, sunshine.” She whispered into his ear, and he tilted his head to touch hers.

“Thanks, mum.” He whispered back. “You and Doni will have to come back to help me decorate - m’absolutely hopeless when it comes to that stuff. And I refuse to let Niall do it.”

“I resent that!” Niall called from the kitchen, making his sisters giggle.

His mum had spent a few days getting a whole lot of food prepped - chicken tikka, marsala lamb chops, with pasta salad, green salads, wings - it was enough to feed twenty people, and his whole house smelled wonderful while they set about heating things up.

He stood with his dad at the giant barbecue, each with a beer in their hand. He watched the methodical way his father cooked - only turning once, brushing marinade on each side to get it nice and sticky, and closing the lid to let it heat all the way through.

“It’s a nice spot, beta.” Yaser said, settling his large, warm hand against the nape of Zayn’s neck. “Not too far from the training facility, then?”

Zayn leaned into his fathers touch. “Nah, like a twenty minute drive, or summat. And not too far from you guys, which is good.”

Yaser hummed, giving him a comfortable squeeze. “Your mum has been over the moon about you moving back here. Sisters as well. Might not be able to get rid of them now.”

Zayn laughed. They were a tight knit family - and in the beginning it had been hard to be away from them for so long. He’d been sixteen when he’d gone off to training camps - and after that, he was only home for a few weeks at a time. Signing with the Bradford squad meant a little more time at home with family, and that’s what mattered to him most.

“Now if you could get yourself a man to make an honest one out of you….”

“ _Baba_ ….” He groaned, letting his head drop. He knew his father was teasing, but it still brought a warm blush to his cheeks.

Yaser grinned and squeezed the back of Zayn’s neck gently. “Trust me. Your mum and sisters are worse.”

**

Zayn twirled his keys around on his finger as he made his way into the training facility. 

The building had gone through renovations over the past year to update the gym and physiotherapy offices. All new workout room, ice-baths, saunas: and Zayn was a little in love with this space.

Bright, open - and brand spanking new.

His trainers squeaked along the linoleum floor as he rounded a corner to head towards the managers office, just to pop in and see if anyone was around. He decided to come in and check everything out, maybe get a workout in, and get himself comfortable.

“Zayn! Fancy seeing you here.”

Zayn came to a halt and turned around on his heel, smiling lightly when he saw Liam’s head pop out from his office. “Hey, Liam. Alright?”

“Brilliant, mate.” Liam replied, stepping out into the hallway. “Just going through players physical records. What brings you in? Tests don’t start until Wednesday.”

Zayn stepped in towards him, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder. “Figured I’d check everything out, gonna see if Cowell is in - maybe make use of the gym.” He shrugged, eyes bright. 

Liam perked up. “You rebel. Doing a little work out before anyone else.”

“It’s because it takes me a little longer to get into shape these days.” Zayn snorted. “Don’t get too excited.”

“You look to be in pretty good shape to me.” Liam shrugged, and Zayn watched as a soft blush warmed Liam’s cheeks. “I mean - from a trainers standpoint, of course. Not that I was like - checking you out.” 

Zayn’s eyebrow quirked, and his heart started to thump in an irregular beat.

“But I mean, that’s not to say I wouldn’t check you out, like.” Liam continued, babbling on. “Fit as you are.”

“Liam.” Zayn whined softly, bringing a hand up to settle on Liam’s shoulder.

“Right, yes. Sorry. Sometimes my mouth works faster than my brain. Could name you all 206 bones in the body, but I’m bloody useless when it comes to chatting people up.” Liam laughed, eyes crinkling softly around the edges.

It took everything in Zayn to not kiss him, right then and there.

That thought alone sobered Zayn up, stiffening his spine. He couldn’t think of a fellow teammate like that. And sure, Liam wasn’t exactly his teammate on the pitch, but they definitely worked together. Last thing he needed was to complicate things.

He squeezed Liam’s shoulder and dropped his hand. “Too much coffee this morning, Li?”

Liam lifted his own hand to draw fingers through his hair. “None at all, actually. More of a tea drinker myself.” He replied, relief on his face when he realized Zayn was okay with his verbal falsettos.

“I’ll have to remember that.” Zayn grinned, shifting his bag on his shoulder again as he took a few steps backwards. “Gotta go check in with Cowell, mate. Maybe I’ll see you before I head into the gym?”

Liam nodded, a warm blush still staining his cheeks.”I’ll be around. If you come back this way, like - need to figure out a place to live, if you’re interested in helping still.”

“Of course I am.” Zayn replied, and he meant it. “I’ll see you in a bit, Li.”

—

Simon Cowell had been Manager of Bradford City for the better part of 15 years. He was hardworking, dedicated and passionate about making sure that his teams were some of the best. 

Zayn had worked with Cowell when he played for England. When Zayn had expressed an interest in joining the club, Simon made his way to London to visit him.

In one meeting - one day - Simon had convinced him that his idea and his need to go back to his roots were valid. It only took Zayn 24 hours to make his decision (much to Niall’s chagrin), and the next chapter of Zayn’s career had begun.

He stood in the open doorway to Simon’s office, and knocked against the frame. 

Simon looked up from his laptop and removed his glasses. “Zayn my boy,” he greeted, getting up from his desk. “Coming to check out the facilities?”

Zayn smiled, letting himself into Simon’s office. “Figured now was as good a time as any. New additions look great.” He replied, reaching out to shake the older mans hand. “Might make use of the gym today, if that’s alright.”

“More than.” Simon squeezed his hand and let it go, motioning for Zayn to take a seat. “All settled in yet? Glad to be home?”

Zayn set his duffel bag down next to the chair, and eased into the seat. “Rest of me things are coming in tomorrow, I think - and yes, very glad to be home. I still don’t know how to thank you for helping me with all this.”

Simon perched himself on the side of his desk, facing Zayn, and waved a hand. “Nonsense. We should be thanking you, really.” Simon laughed. “Don’t know many players in their prime willing to take a pay cut _and_ move to a lower division.”

Zayn lifted a shoulder to shrug. He had his money - enough to live life more than comfortably - and fame was never really something he cared for. He wanted to use his stature for good: creating charities and facilities that weren’t around when he and his friends were kids. Give them opportunities that could help shape futures.

He wanted to be part of change.

“Have you met Liam yet?” Simon asked, quirking a brow.

Zayn shifted minutely. “I did, yeah. Might need to work a little more closely with him to get my arse back into shape.” He joked, rubbing his jaw. 

Simon snorted, pushing up from the desk to lay a heavy hand on Zayn’s shoulder.  “If there is one thing you aren’t, it’s egotistical. Might have you sit in with the rookies during camp to talk to them about the importance of health and regime.”

Zayn groaned inwardly. He remembered his second year into the league: wanting to celebrate every night, the _easiness_ of ordering in rather than making his own meals. Nineteen and untouchable, right? Until he gained almost 20 pounds and found himself on the bench as a second string.  

After that, he smartened up: asked his mum for cooking lessons, and his baba for financial advice. Worked with a personal trainer over the off-season, and came back for his third year in the league in better shape than he’d ever been.

“Can do that.” He murmured, teeth finding purchase on the inside of his cheek. 

“We also have a fan appreciation event coming up next week.” Simon continued, heading back around his desk to sit down. “Would love if you’d come out for a bit, maybe man one of the games?”

Zayn grinned. “Can do that too, yeah.”

Simon rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Well, I can assume you’d rather be checking out the rest of the building rather than prattling on with me.” He said, wriggling his brows. “Enjoy the rest of your day, son. And I’ll see you for the first players meeting on Friday.”

Zayn got up from the chair and picked up his duffel bag to sling over his shoulder. “Thanks, Simon - cheers.” He murmured, reaching out to shake the older man’s hand. 

“Go on!” Simon laughed, squeezing his hand. 

He slipped out of Simon’s office and made his way down towards the gym, humming quietly to himself. Other than a few other members of staff, the building was relatively empty.

He made his way into the locker room and whistled low. It was bright, with blue-grey carpeting throughout. The stalls were made of dark wood, with couches spread throughout. To the left were the showers and a sauna room, and to the right was the hallway towards the kitchen, pool, and the gym.

There was also another room just off the locker room with a few chairs and a large tv - to which Zayn supposed was where they watched game tapes.

He made his way towards a stall closest to the showers and dumped his bag onto the chair. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, bending his spine backwards slightly to stretch out a kink. He was excited to get a workout in, maybe check out the sauna and the rest of the facilities.

He stripped out of his street clothes and got into his workout gear, humming quietly to himself. He knew that in a few days this place would be bustling with his teammates and staff: and a sudden rush of energy surged through his veins. He was ready to get this season started.

He picked up his phone and his earbuds, along with his bottle of water, and wandered through towards the gym.

It was a huge space, complete with weights and every piece of equipment you could find. There were TV’s hung everywhere, playing various sports shows or the news. 

“So you found it,” came a voice from behind him.

Zayn glanced back and grinned, finding Liam leaning against a treadmill. “Yeah man, this place is sick.” 

Liam grinned back. “Isn’t it? Have used it a few times meself- we added a few new pieces of equipment last week. I reckon this space will be good to go for the start of training camp.” He said, eyes bright. 

Zayn nodded slowly, eyes taking in Liam’s frame. They weren’t so different in height - with Liam being maybe a little taller than he was - but Liam had more muscle: a beautiful definition to his arms and shoulders, with a toned chest and a lean waist. He was wearing dark red basketball shorts and a black racerback tank, his skin coated with a thin sheen of sweat, which Zayn took to mean that Liam had been in the gym for a bit already.

Zayn’s mind suddenly wandered, wondering what it would be like to have those arms wrapped around his waist - to have Liam’s body pressed into his, to trace his tongue into the dip of his neck…

He bit his tongue lightly, trying to calm the sudden warmth in his belly and the ache in his groin. 

“What were you workin’ on?” Zayn asked, tearing his eyes away from Liam’s chest, hoping to god his cheeks weren’t the same colour as Liam’s shorts.

“Me? We installed some suspension ropes for TRX training, was giving them a run. Want to try it out?” Liam replied, inclining his head towards a space just past the ehlipticals where a few mats were set up, along with two sets of TRX training ropes.

Zayn glanced to the ropes, then back to Liam wearily. “Going to try and ruin me before the season even starts?” He smirked, shaking his head. “Think I’ll stick to the basics for now, yeah?”

Liam laughed, and a different type of warmth spread through Zayn’s belly. “Ruin you? Well, I mean - only if you wanted to be ruined.” Liam replied, his eyes widening as he spoke. 

His hands flew up to his mouth.

Zayn’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline.

“I did not just say that.” Liam mumbled from behind his hands, face draining of all colour. “I did not…I did. Oh god. Zayn, I’m so sorry - honestly. Foot in mouth disease, I swear.” 

Zayn let out a laugh. It startled Liam, who seemed to be paling at a concerning rate. 

“It’s fine, Li.” Zayn said, his voice warm as he reached out to squeeze Liam’s shoulder. The other man was tense, eyes a little wide. He pressed his thumb to Liam’s collarbone. “Honestly dude, it’s fine.”

Liam drew his full lower lip between his teeth, inhaling through his nose before pushing it out. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

Zayn snorted. “Stop. Show me the ropes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I suck at updating. I hope this helps ease your hate of me. <3

The rest of the week passed in a blur for Zayn. He managed to get into some sort of routine, moved the things from his apartment in London into his house, and did an interview for The Telegraph & Argus: the local newspaper in Bradford. 

They’d talked everything: from him getting drafted to Bradford City at the age of 16, to making it into the EPL with Chelsea. His triumphs, his hiccups. He talked passionately about his family and his need to give back to the city that raised him. It was all coming full circle for Zayn, and he had finally found his groove.

The players meeting had gone as expected: a lot of bright eyed rookies, some sophomores who believed they knew everything already, and the longtime vets who sat near the back and only paid attention when they were called upon.

Zayn talked to a few of the rookies, letting them know what they could expect in their first year in the league. Some were in awe of him: hometown boy turned EPL superstar, now playing for the team who gave him a chance. They asked for photos (because their mates would never believe that they knew Zayn freaking Malik) and autographs, to which Zayn obliged, albeit wearily. 

He didn’t want to be treated any differently. He was here for the team, here to help out. He wasn’t here to be better than anyone else. The moment that started happening, everything would turn to shit.

He and Niall helped Liam find an apartment - well, Niall did a lot of the work, as Zayn ended up having to do a few meetings with his sponsors and lawyers for his youth centre. From what Niall had told him, though, the place was ‘sick’ and Liam was going to be very happy with his decision.

He and Liam hadn’t had much interaction since that day in the gym. They’d goofed around while Liam had shown him all the new equipment, but after that day, most of their interactions had been in passing.

Zayn wondered, briefly, if Liam was terrified of him.

The eve of the fan appreciation event came quickly. Niall offered to drive so that Zayn could hang out with his teammates afterwards, even though Zayn wasn’t really up for partying at all.

“You’re not already in training mode, are ye?” Niall asked as he turned into the staff parking lot at the stadium. “You’re not as fun when you’re in training mode.”

Zayn snorted at that. “Training starts next week, Ni. And my body doesn’t-“

“-do the same things it used to do. I know.” Niall cut him off, a grin in his voice. “Same song and dance, mate. Chill. Have fun. Shag someone, if it so pleases you.”

“I’m not shagging anyone from a fan event.” Zayn sputtered, his face growing warm. 

“I didn’t say a fan…” Niall cackled, easing his car into an empty space before cutting the engine. 

The fan appreciation event was something that the club held every year to show their supporters some love. The money to went local charities, and fans had the chance to meet their favourite footballers. Every player had to participate in some way, and Zayn was impressed by his teammates. They were genuinely excited for this event, and the chance to give something back.

Zayn unfolded himself from Niall’s car - a sleek black Porsche that he and Louis had bought for Niall on his 25th birthday - and stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about…” He muttered, even though Niall was no longer paying attention to him.

Zayn unclipped his sunnies from his white t-shirt and pushed them onto his face. The sun was just setting, casting the stadium in warm golds, oranges and pinks. He really couldn’t wait to get back out on the pitch and play. 

Niall sidled up beside him, inching up on the balls of his feet to throw an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “Just relax, yeah? No one is going to fault you if you take a cheat day, Malik.”

The tension melted from Zayn’s muscles. He leaned into Niall’s side, his arm settling around his midsection. “You  _ are _ my cheat day, Horan. Don’t forget that.” He grinned, squeezing his best mate.

They walked into the stadium via the players entrance, signing themselves in with the security guard. Niall was a bundle of energy: a bright spark in an otherwise dim world. He fed off of it, letting it sink deep into his pores. He was looking forward to the event: being able to talk to fans and raise money for worthy causes. He could afford to kick back and enjoy himself.

They ran into the coordinator of the event as they made their way to the locker room where they were meant to meet up with the rest of the staff and team before everything started.

“I’m Aileen: I’m so glad you could make it today, Zayn.” She said as they shook hands. She was petite, with wavy black hair. “My little brother has been talking about you non-stop.”

Zayn laughed, squeezing her fingers. “You’ll have to point him out to me, yeah? Take a few pics.”

She showed them into the room, where Zayn was greeted by teammates and staff, shaking hands with each one of them, while Niall went over to talk to Simon, his warm laugh overtaking most of the noise in the now filled up space.

They settled once Aileen called everything to order. She explained how the event would go, and that each player would be assigned to a specific area. Some players were grouped together, others working in shifts.

“Zayn - we’ve got you at the dunk tank.” Aileen called over to him. “Liam’s going to be helping you out there.”

Zayn’s eyes flitted from Aileen, to where Liam stood off to the side. He watched as Liam’s eyes brightened and the brunette lifted his hand into a small wave.

“You and Payno, huh?” Niall murmured from behind him, making Zayn jump.

“Shut it, Irish.” Zayn mumbled, his heart giving an erratic thump. “We’re not all slags like you.”

Niall giggled and pinched him in the side, though Zayn was hardly paying him any mind. 

Liam looked good in a red henley that stretched over the expanse of his chest and arms, and a pair of black jeans that could be considered sinful by anyone’s definition. On his head was a snapback that was settled over his carefully-coiffed hair. Liam was standing with a few of the other trainers and medical staff, who were all laughing and talking quietly amongst each other.

Zayn studied the way Liam’s mouth moved - the way his lips wrapped around certain vowels and consonants. He watched the way his eyes crinkled, settling into half-moon shapes when one of his colleagues made a funny comment. 

He watched as people seemed to gravitate towards Liam, like the sun pulling sunflowers into its warm embrace. That’s what Liam was like: the sun. 

Zayn slapped a hand over his eyes, drawing it down his face slowly.  _ Christ _ , he thought:  _ get your shit together, Malik _ .

The groups split up after Aileen finished her speech, and Zayn watched as Liam came over to him, adjusting his snapback on his head. 

“Alright, Zed?” Liam asked, tilting his head slightly. 

Zayn nodded, grinning. “Alright, Li,” he replied, reaching out to punch the other man's shoulder. “Y’ready to get wet?”

Liam laughed, rocking back on his heels as if Zayn had actually hurt him. “Me? No, mate: you’re the one getting into the dunk tank.” 

Zayn blinked. “That’s not - Aileen said you were.”

Liam tried to hold back his grin, pressing his lips together for a moment before he shrugged. “It’s not me, Z. You’re the main attraction: I am just the money taker.”

Zayn felt a little dizzy. He hated water, truly. Never learned to swim, and was deathly afraid of the ocean. Sure, this wasn’t an ocean: but it was certainly a body of water that he couldn’t escape…He huffed out a breath, curling his hands into fists against his sides. 

“You okay, Z? Looking a little pale…” Liam commented, those dark eyes filled with concern.

“M’fine, yeah. Just not a fan of water.” He admitted, tucking the corner of his lower lip between his teeth. “Don’t make fun of me for it.” He added, a warning in his voice.

Liam laughed and sidled up beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“M’not, like - I’m not gonna drown in there, am I?” Zayn asked, and part of him hated how he sounded. He was a grown man, for goodness sakes.

Liam squeezed his shoulders and pulled him along, guiding a weary Zayn down the hall and out towards the parking lot, where the fan appreciation event was taking place.

“You’ll be taller than the water in the tank. And if you do start to drown, I’ll save you.” Liam murmured, a small smile on ruddy lips.

“My hero.” Zayn snorted, batting his eyelashes. 

—

True to Liam’s word, Zayn did indeed not drown in the dunk tank.

The fan event was a lot of fun: tons of people came out to meet the players and the money was going to a great cause. Even Zayn enjoyed himself, observing Liam from time to time as he ran the tank.

The way he held himself and the way seemed to be drawn to his positive energy. Zayn had to keep his own fond from showing a few times, in fear that Liam was going to catch him.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he enjoyed the warmth it brought.

Once the last photo had been taken, and the last autograph signed, Liam offered up a towel to Zayn, a grin on his face.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Liam asked, wiggling his brows.

Zayn chuckled, running the towel through his hair. His clothes were soaked through, t-shirt clinging to his chest. He was certain he looked like a drowned rat. “No, not bad at all. You’re way too good at convincing people to come dunk me, though.”

Liam grinned wider. “Did a lot of charity work when I was doing me studies - loads of carnivals and stuff. Love it.” He said, rocking side to side on the edges of his feet. “Reckon I could be a good salesman.”

“Too good.” Zayn conceded, tossing the now wet towel into Liam’s face. “Next time you’re getting in the tank.”

Liam laughed out loud and reached over to ruffle Zayn’s hair, to which Zayn made a low noise. Even the lightest of touches seemed to set Zayn off, and while he wanted Liam to touch him, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole ‘being with a co-worker’ thing.

Still didn’t stop him from wondering what it would be like to have Liam trace those calloused fingertips against his skin…

“C’mon, Z.” Liam snickered, his brown eyes bright. “Let’s get you some dry clothes, yeah?”

Zayn grinned back and nudged Liam with his elbow, falling into step with him. They wandered back into the clubhouse, talking about the upcoming training camp schedule.

Liam promised to wait for him, offering to meet up by his office when Zayn was done. Zayn made his way into the players dressing room and over to his bag, finding his jeans, boxers, a t-shirt and a pair of high tops. He dressed quickly, leaving his wet stuff hanging in his locker.

His hair was another matter. it had already started to dry, and was curling slightly. He huffed out a breath and tried to work out the knots, slicking it back a little with some wax. 

He collected his keys, phone and wallet, shouting his goodbyes to some of the players lingering about the dressing room.

He twirled his keys around his finger has he walked down the hallway, admiring the photos of past and present players and management. The team had gone through so many things, but one thing did not change: the idea of family. This was the team he grew up watching with his father, and the team that got him into football in the first place. When he had kids, he knew he’d raise them on Bradford City.

He thought back to a time when he was a boy, when his father would take him to see matches, quietly explaining all the rules and what each player's position was. They’d talk about the tiers within the league, and Zayn lapped it all up. 

He told his parents he wanted to play football when he was 7 years old, and they enrolled him into kids programs right away.. He practiced every day, anywhere he could. Their backyard wasn’t much of anything, so he and his father built a makeshift goal for Zayn to practice his penalties on, and he knew he was better for it. Knew that his parents’ unyielding support about the sport he loved would help him get far. 

One day, his photo would be up on this wall and his dream would be complete. Until then…

He smiled to himself as he rounded the corner, finding Liam locking up his office. 

“Alright, Payno?” He asked, tucking his keys back into his pocket.

Liam nodded. “Brilliant. Today was a good day,” Liam replied, turning to face him. “D’ya have a ride home?”

“I came with Niall, said he was going to have a chat with someone and then meet me out in the parking lot,” Zayn said, glancing behind him to the exit. 

“I’ll walk with you out, then,” Liam grinned, gesturing towards the door with an outstretched arm.

They fell into step with one another, with Liam talking animatedly about the apartment that Zayn and Niall had helped him find. His stuff was still in boxes in a storage unit just outside of town and he planned on moving it all in by the end of the week.

“Need to go shopping for furniture, though,” Liam said once they made it out into the lot. “Left all that stuff with me roommate in London.”

“I know a few places we can hit up,” Zayn offered as he glanced around the nearly empty space, his brow furrowing when he realized Niall’s car was no longer there. He swore under his breath. “Dammit, Niall.”

Liam turned to him, face drawn in concern. “What’s the matter?”

Zayn pushed his fingers through his hair. “Niall’s buggered off and left me here without a ride.”

Liam took a look around. “I could give you a lift, if you want,” he said after a moment. “As long as you don’t make fun of my ride.”

Zayn’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to do that. I can call a cab or an Uber: my place is so much further out than you need to go…”

Liam waved his hand. “Nonsense. I need to learn the city anyway, and I bet you’re a pretty good map. C’mon.”

Zayn stood there as Liam made his way over to his truck, watching as the other man fished around in his back pocket for his keys. Inwardly, he was a little excited: this was a perfect moment to get Liam on his own and suss out any possible feelings that Liam might have for him. The other part of him was cursing and thanking Niall to hell and high water for his not-so-subtle hint.

“Don’t make me sling you over my shoulder, Malik.” Liam warned as he peeked his head around the side of the truck. “And don’t let my size fool you: I can certainly take you on.”

Zayn sighed and made his way to the passenger's seat, palming the back of his neck. He waited for the telltale noise of the door unlocking before he opened it and heaved himself into the cab.

“Thanks,” he murmured, grinning a little when Liam beamed at him. “S’nice truck, mate.”

“Was a gift from me parents when I graduated from uni,” Liam said, pushing the key into the ignition. “Has moved me around more times than I care to say out loud, honestly. Now: where to?”

Zayn provided directions through the city, showing Liam some landmarks and his favourite places he used to go as a teenager, and answered any question Liam had about Bradford. Zayn had been hoping for more awkwardness, but instead felt comfortable and at ease. When the drive turned more scenic, he shifted in his seat slightly to take in Liam’s profile.

The sleeves of his henley were pushed up to his elbows now, revealing the tattoos that were scrawled across his sun-kissed skin. Gone was the snapback, and his hair was done up neatly into a quiff. He watched a slow grin cross Liam’s lips, and Zayn felt a blush rise on his cheeks when Liam’s eyes slanted towards him for a moment before looking back to the dark road.

“What’s on your mind, Z?” Liam asked, his voice warm.

“D’you like it here so far?” He queried, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “In Bradford?”

“I do,” Liam replied, nodding. “I haven’t seen much of the city, as much of my time has literally been at the offices, but so far I have no complaints. I think once I’m moved into me new place I’ll feel like it’s home.”

Zayn made an approving noise, glancing out the front window of the truck at the sprawling night sky. “It’s a nice place, too.,” Zayn murmured, thinking back to the day that Niall came to him with a booklet for a flat that he thought Liam would love. “Niall is glad you put in an offer with them.”

“I’ll have to thank him - again. He’s not even my agent but he made me feel like a rockstar!” Liam laughed, and it filled the cab of the truck with a warm feeling.

“Niall is good people.” Zayn agreed, turning to face Liam once more. “Listen, Li…I was thinkin’…” he trailed off, his heart making some sort of stuttering motion, and he cleared his throat. “When you’re all settled in, maybe we can go grab dinner? I can show you some of me favourite spots in the city, make you feel more at home.”

Liam turned to him then, his brow quirked. “Like…a date?”

Zayn’s face felt as though it was on fire. “It doesn’t…like, we don’t need to call it a date, if that’s not something you want to do, yeah? Can just be two mates goin’ out for dinner…” He assured, hating the fact that he sounded like a teenager asking his first boy out on a date, rather than a multi-millionaire, internationally known footballer who had done this before. 

“And if I want it to be a date?” Liam asked, turning back to the road, a smile on his lips.

Zayn exhaled, smiling a little. “Then it can be a date.” 

“Brilliant.” Liam said quietly, sitting up a little straighter in the drivers seat. “I like dates.”

Zayn drew his fingers over his lips to hide his grin. “Me too. This Sunday, maybe? After practice?”

Liam nodded. “That sounds perfect, I like Sundays.”

Zayn laughed, and his body felt light. It wasn’t like him to dive head first and just ask a guy out on a date. Usually he was more reserved, more cautious, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t have to be. He could throw caution to the wind and simply enjoy being with someone who wanted to be with him, too. 

They talked about the upcoming week and the training schedule, to which Liam seemed excited about. Their first exhibition game was coming up soon, and Zayn was itching to get out on the pitch. Liam had been hard at work making sure he’d sat down with every one of the players and talked to them about their current eating habits, workouts, and updated their physicals. He wanted to tailor each of them with their own routines, rather than have a cookie-cutter approach to the health aspect of being a footballer, as no two people were alike.

Zayn was genuinely interested as Liam talked: it was quite evident that Liam loved what he did and he wanted to be a difference and help the team be as successful off the field as it was on the field.

When they finally pulled up to Zayn’s home, Liam cut the engine and settled back in his seat as Zayn undid his seatbelt.

“Thank you for the ride,” Zayn murmured, glancing at Liam through lowered lashes. “Even though you didn’t have to.”

Liam waved a hand. “Nonsense. I was happy to do it,” he said with a grin. “But if I get lost on the way back into the city, you may have to come find me.”

Zayn couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled past his lips at the idea. “Deal. Unless y’wanna come in for a minute and I can get you proper directions?”

“I really should be getting back,” Liam sighed, glancing to the clock on the dashboard. “I’ve got four guys coming in for physicals tomorrow starting at 6 AM.”

Zayn winced. “What’s 6 AM?”

“Something you’ve probably not seen in a long time, Malik,” Liam laughed, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

“That’s not true,” Zayn huffed. “I get up early plenty. Moreso now because of you.”

Liam reached over and settled his large, warm hand against Zayn’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “Just wait. A few more months around me and you’ll be wanting to get up at 6 AM every day.”

Zayn snorted, letting his fingers trail over the rose tattoo on Liam’s hand. “Fat chance of that, Payno.”

Liam grinned again, flipping his hand over so that Zayn’s settled against his, palm to palm. Their fingers linked, and Zayn enjoyed the way they fit so nicely together. his teeth worried along his lower lip as Liam gave his hand a squeeze, then let him go.

“So, will I see you before Sunday?” Liam asked, reaching up to brush his hand through his hair.

Zayn nodded. “Probably Wednesday?” He offered, thinking back on his schedule. “I’m in for a meeting with Cowell and then someone from the local paper wants an interview, I think. But I’ll be around, yeah?”

“Cool,” Liam replied with a nod. “You can come get your workout schedule from me then as well, if you’d like.”

Zayn gave him a sideways glance that made Liam laugh out loud, reaching over to shove Zayn slightly.

“You’re going to learn to appreciate proper workouts, I know it.”

“You can’t teach old dogs new tricks,” Zayn mumbled, reaching for the door handle to push it open. 

“We’ll see,” Liam chuckled. “Old dog.”

Zayn slipped from the truck and turned to face Liam, his hand propped against the frame of the cab. “G’nite, Leeyum,” he said, ignoring Liam’s jibe.

“Night, Z,” Liam replied, tilting his head slightly, his eyes soft.

Zayn shut the door to the truck and took a few steps back as Liam revved up the engine once more. He waited until Liam had reversed and turned around to head back down the dirt road before he made his way to his own front door.

He fished out his keys and let himself into the house, sighing loudly as the long day suddenly sank into his bones. He was very much ready for bed, even though he was still buzzing from the car ride with Liam.

In his room, he plugged his phone in to charge and was surprised to see two unread messages from Niall that he’d missed while in the car. He thumbed in his password and opened them up, snorting loudly at what he saw:

**Horan: did it work???**

**Horan: you owe me big, bro.**

Zayn shook his head. Niall was the biggest matchmaker he’d ever met. And while it didn’t always work out, he couldn’t fault the man for trying. He replied with a simple winking emoji and shut off his phone, grinning stupidly to himself as he got himself ready for bed.

—

The sky was a beautiful shade of blue - the kind that Zayn wanted to paint on his walls in his art room - littered with soft wispy white clouds that lazily made their way along with the help of a gentle breeze. He tilted his chin up slightly as he settled his feet on the seat in front of him, his arms resting along the two empty seats on either side of him.

“Thanks for doing this interview with me, Mr. Malik.”

Zayn smiled widely at the girl who sat one seat away from him in the stands at the stadium. She was no more than 17, with dark brown hair and honey coloured eyes. She was doing some sort of project for school about athletes who were from Bradford and had seen success, and Zayn had happily agreed to sit down with her, one-on-one.

“Y’can call me Zayn,” he offered, noting the shake of her fingers as she scribbled things down in her notebook. “Just two mates talking, yeah?”

The girl - Anya - smiled brightly. “Yeah, okay,” she agreed, glancing down to her notes. “Did you ever have dreams of being something other than an athlete?” 

Zayn pursed his lips in thought, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced out over the pitch. “When I was about fifteen, I figured if I didn’t make it with football, I’d go to uni and study English? Maybe art as well? I wanted to be a teacher in case this didn’t work out.” He said, thinking back on the day that his parents had sat him down to remind him that having a backup plan was not the worst thing in the world. “I think it’s massively important to have another plan, and school was always in the cards. I may even go back once I’m done with football.”

Zayn watched as she scratched off the question, then tapped the page in thought. “So you were good at school?” She asked, tilting her head.

“I wasn’t brilliant, but I worked hard.” Zayn admitted. “Me parents always said we had to keep up with our studies if we wanted to keep up with our dreams, and it was a good way to keep us all grounded. School is just as important to me as football is. Do you like school?”

Anya wrinkled her nose. “I guess. I like learning new things and applying them when I can. I want to become a writer.”

“What do you want to write about?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“Sports, mostly.” She replied, excited about the change in topic. “I’ve been with the school paper and doing the sports column for 3 years now, but sometimes I get teased for it.”

Zayn frowned slightly. “I’ll tell you a story: when I was a bit younger than you, I was determined I was going to make football work. I was this string bean of a kid with no muscle tone, and because of how I looked physically, and the fact that I was not like everyone else, I was teased a lot,” he said, watching as Anya’s eyes went wide. “And it was consistent, and sometimes it was hard to take. But my dad once said to me that patience and hard work are the base for something better, and my family supported me in whatever I decided to do. So I got up early every morning and trained by myself, then would do footie practice at school in the afternoon, and studied hard each night. I did this, because I knew I could be something better. I did this because I knew that in the end, I would be greater for it. And you do what you do, because you’re going to be amazing.”

Anya gripped her pen a little tighter. “You think so?” She asked.

Zayn nodded. “I do. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and if you keep working at it, I know you’ll kick arse.”

She giggled at that, bringing her little notebook up to her face. “Thank you, Zayn,” she breathed, cheeks a soft shade of pink now. 

He laughed, brushing his hand through his hair. “You’re welcome. And if you’re up for it, and your parents say it’s okay, leave your contact info with me and I’ll look into getting you media credentials for home games, yeah?”

She gasped a little. “Really?”

“Really,” he grinned, settling back into his seat. “Now, I know we’ve only got a limited amount of time and there’s a bunch of questions you want to ask, so let’s get this done and we can talk more about the other stuff after.”

Their interview lasted an hour, with the two of them talking mostly about sports, dreams and Bradford. Anya was gonna go places, and Zayn was happy to help her kickstart her writing career. He was happiest when he could pay it forward, and was big on giving back to the community and city that raised him.

He talked to her about his community centre project, and his desire to help youth in need find solace in a space they could call their own. Zayn had spent many countless hours at his community centre as a kid, and when they tore it down to build a strip mall, it left many like him searching for a place to be a kid and enjoy himself without getting into too much trouble.

He wanted to bring the love of sport, camaraderie and friendship back to Bradford youth.

He stayed out in the stands for a long while after Anya had left with a dozen ‘thank yous’ coming from her lips. He sat, admiring the way the lighting changed in the stadium as the sun crossed over the sky. His body thrummed with the need to be out on the pitch, and he knew it was coming up soon. His parents and family were coming to the match, along with Ant and Danny - two mates he grew up with - and of course, Niall. 

It was only an exhibition game, but they all wanted to be there, to see him in the claret and amber for the first time in nearly a decade.

He let out a low howl - a sort of battle cry - before chuckling to himself. This was going to be a good year.

—

The rest of the week passed by in a blur for Zayn, to which he was thankful for. Getting himself back into proper routines, be it for exercise, sleeping, or eating, was no easy feat as he got older. 

He didn’t get to see Liam as much as he thought he would, either: they’d seen each other briefly on the day Zayn was at the stadium doing the interview, and Liam gave him his new workout schedule. They had talked momentarily about Sunday, when Liam asked him what Zayn had planned for them: but Zayn simply grinned and shrugged, not wanting to give too much away.

When Sunday hit, Zayn was a nervous wreck.

Zayn parked his car across the street from Liam’s apartment complex, turning his phone over in between his hands. Part of him was nervous about all of this: going on a date with Liam. With someone he worked with. In his ten years as a professional footballer, he’d never dated anyone who was part of this life. 

He was picky - though if you asked him, he’d vehemently deny it - about who he dated. He wanted someone who would give him that little bit of normalcy, of home, that he so craved. Niall had long since given up trying to set Zayn up on dates: because they were all either other footballers, or socialites, or actors…and that just wasn’t Zayn.

He wanted…well, he didn’t really know what he wanted.

He checked the time on his phone and rubbed his free hand idly over his stubbled cheek. Liam was so different to anyone he’d ever tried to date and he was worried that he’d end up ruining their friendship - personal and professional.

He lightly slapped his own cheek. “Get it together, Zayn.” He mumbled to himself.

Zayn had to admit that he and Niall had done well in finding Liam a nice place to live. The apartment was settled in the city centre, part of a new build. It meant Liam was close to work, and still able to be in the city with all its amenities.

He climbed out of his car and shut the door behind him, locking it up with the push of a button. Zayn had opted for a pair of grey distressed denim jeans, a vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt (which, was falling apart around the collar, but he couldn’t even think about throwing it out: it was a gift from his father), and his favourite pair of boots. 

His hair was a mess. He’d tried (really, he did) to make it sit properly, but it seemed to want to stick up every which way, so he just went with it: adding a little product to make it slightly more manageable. His glasses were hooked onto the collar of his t-shirt, and his favourite Rolex (one of his first purchases when he made it into the league) sat on his left wrist.

He crossed the street and into the building, where he was greeted by a security guard at the front desk.

“Holy shit - you’re Zayn Malik.” The man breathed, getting up from his chair. “Like…THE Zayn Malik.”

Zayn snorted, drawing his nails against his jaw. “How’s it going, mate?” He murmured, grinning slightly. 

“I’m good. Oh my god: I remember when you first came into the league, you were like… _ it _ man. Really glad you came back to Bradford.” The man said, holding out his hand. “You’re good for this city.”

An unexpected warmth spread through Zayn’s chest, and surrounded his heart. He slid his hand into the man’s and shook it firmly. “Thanks, man. Appreciate that a lot.” He replied, making a mental note to have tickets brought down for him. Anything to make someone’s day. “What’s your name?”

“Javed.” The man replied, a bright smile crossing his features. “Shit, I should probably be doing my job, yeah? Who are you here to see?”

Zayn snorted a laugh and dropped his hand, rubbing his palm against his jeans. “Ehm, Liam Payne?”

Some sort of recognition crossed Javed’s features. Zayn tried to cool his. “I’ll buzz up to him for ya.”

Zayn nodded and smiled widely when Javed picked up the phone on his desk to call up to Liam’s flat. He pulled his own phone out from his pocket to shoot Niall a quick text about ticket availability, just as Javed hung up.

“He said he’d be right down, Zayn.” Javed beamed at him. 

Some few minutes later, Liam emerged from the lifts with a grin on his face. 

Zayn couldn’t help it when a similar smile spread over his own.

Liam was dressed in dark denim, a white v-neck t-shirt that hugged him in all the right places, and a black and red checkered flannel was tied around his hips. He held his arms out a little as he reached Zayn. 

“I was going to wear the exact same outfit.” Liam grinned, cheeks flooding with colour. “Reckon it looks better on you, though.”

Zayn ducked his head, hiding a smile. Liam could wear a burlap sack and Zayn was convinced he would look amazing. He cleared his throat. “You ready to go?”

Liam nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Any chance you’re gonna let me know what we’re doing?”

Zayn grinned, drawing his thumb across his lower lip. “What’s the fun in that?”

—

Prashad was a restaurant that Zayn had visited quite often as a teen and every time he’d come home. Next to his mum’s cooking, this was one of his favourite places to eat in the city.

“D’ya like vegetarian cuisine?” Zayn asked as he opened the door to the restaurant. “I guess I should’ve asked you before…”

“Love it. Me mum always used to say she thought I was born in a vegetable patch,” Liam mused, stepping into the restaurant as Zayn followed behind him. “Though, I do love me a good steak too.”

A woman came up to them right away, a bright smile on her face. “Zayn!” She exclaimed her arms wide open. “So good to see you again.”

Zayn stepped forward and embraced the smaller woman. “Hey, Jess,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You doing good?”

Jess stepped back, but kept her hands on his biceps. “Very good. Minal is excited to see you,” she replied, peeking over Zayn’s shoulder to where Liam stood.

Zayn grew warm and turned slightly, reaching out for Liam, who came to stand next to him. “Jess, this is Liam - Liam, this is Jess. We went to school together, and she is the bar manager here,” Zayn explained.

Jess let go of Zayn and held her hand out to Liam. “S’nice to meet you, Liam,” she grinned.

Liam put his hand in hers and shook it. “Nice to meet you as well, Jess,” Liam murmured.

“Come on through to the back,” Jess said, stepping backwards. “Minal has everything set up and ready to go.”

Zayn settled a hand to the curve of Liam’s back, gently guiding him forward as Jess took the lead to bring them through the restaurant. “Minal is the head chef here,” Zayn said quietly into Liam’s ear, suddenly nervous. “We’re gonna do a cooking class with her and then eat what we make.”

Liam turned his head a little to look at him, eyes wide with wonder, and Zayn’s heart skipped a beat. “This is…” Liam started, and Zayn could hear the smile in his voice. “You sure you want to eat anything I make?”

Zayn laughed, squeezing his fingers into Liam’s side. “You’ll be fine. Minal is one of the best and a good teacher. I worked here as a busser when I was a teen when they opened the restaurant side, and she’s taught me a thing or two.”

Jess led them into the kitchen, where a woman was setting out a few cooking utensils. She looked up and a smile crossed her features. “Zayn Javadd Malik,” Minal breathed, coming around the island. “Look at you!”

Zayn ducked his chin, biting his lower lip to fight off the grin. He dropped his hand from Liam’s waist and came up to her, gathering her up in a warm hug. “‘Lo, Minal,” he murmured into her ear. “It’s good to see you.”

She squeezed him tight before stepping back, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You as well, Zayn. Your mum and father good? And your sisters?"

Zayn nodded, eyes warm. “They’re all good. Saw them last week. Might have to bring everyone in before me first match, yeah?” 

Minal laughed, patting his cheek gently. “Bless. Please do: I’ll make sure they’re well taken care of,” she promised, grinning. “And who is this strapping young man with you this evening?”

Zayn warmed again, glancing back towards Liam who stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking slightly overwhelmed. 

“This is Liam, my…” he trailed off for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek before motioning Liam over. “He’s my date. Li, this is Minal, and please don’t believe every story she tells you, yeah?”

Liam snorted and sidled up to Zayn, offering his hand to Minal. Minal shook her head and pulled Liam into a hug, pressing kisses to both his cheeks, making Zayn laugh.

“Any friend of Zayn is a friend of mine.” She laughed, squeezing Liam’s cheeks in earnest. “C’mon and wash up, and we’ll get started, alright?”

Zayn giggled a little at the look that Liam gave him and he reached over to gently tug Liam’s earlobe. “You alright?”

“Very,” Liam replied, grinning slowly. “Smells so good in here, it’s making me hungry!”

They washed up as Minal explained the dishes they would be making together. The island in the middle of the kitchen was covered with containers filled with colourful spices, along with tons of vegetables, legumes, and sauces.

They stood side by side, their arms brushing every time they reached for the different things, listening intently while Minal explained what they were, and how they were going to use them.

She taught them how to properly hold a chef’s knife, letting them cut up the vegetables for the dishes, and Zayn took to the task with intent, listening quietly as Minal spoke to Liam about her training, and her love of food. He smiled to himself as he cut up a head of cauliflower as Liam asked her dozens of questions, enjoying the way Liam seemed to be at ease and comfortable.

She helped them with the cooking process, explaining the methods and the background of each dish, and Zayn’s stomach was rumbling by the time the plates were done.

“You know,” Minal began, rubbing small circles to Zayn’s back as she peeked over his shoulder. “If this football thing doesn’t work out, you could come work for me, yeah?”

Zayn laughed, his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. “As if you could afford me skills,” he teased, wriggling his eyebrows at her.

She clucked her tongue at him, swatting his shoulder before she moved over to Liam, checking on him. “Smells good, you two,” she praised, wringing her hands together. “You can go wash up and head over to your table, and I’ll have Bobby bring you out your dinner.”

Zayn led Liam over to the sinks, grinning when Liam hip checked him slightly. “This was fun. I like her a lot,” Liam murmured as they sudsed up their hands. “She also had nothing but amazing things to say about you, which, didn’t make for good gossip.”

“I told you, I’m practically a saint,” Zayn laughed, flicking water at him. “C’mon, I’m starving and could do with a drink…”

They dried off and made their way out into the restaurant, to a table just off to the side near the kitchen. They sat down, facing one another, as Jess came over to take their drink orders. They both settled on beers, and Jess rolled her eyes.

“Glad to see THAT hasn’t changed,” she snorted, flicking Zayn’s ear. “Bobby’s coming with your food, and might also have a few tips for your upcoming season.”

Zayn groaned playfully, glancing up as Bobby came from the kitchen, his arms full of plates.

“Malik!” Bobby bellowed. “You best not think that just because you’re my favourite I won’t grill your arse if you drag me team….”

Liam laughed out loud as Zayn pressed his napkin to his face, hiding the fact that he was bright red. “You’re worse than me baba,” he mumbled into it, eyes peeking out as Bobby set their plates down on the table. 

Bobby chuckled and ruffled a hand through Zayn’s hair. “It’s good to see you, son,” he said. “And good luck this year, yeah? We’re all glad you’re home.”

Zayn reached up to curl his fingers around Bobby’s wrist and squeezed gently. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby left them to their meals, with Liam dishing out a bit of each of the things they made onto plates. “How long have you known Minal and Bobby?” Liam asked, handing Zayn his plate.

Zayn hummed in thought. “Gotta be around 15 years now? This was me first job and then after that they were always really good to me and my family.” He replied, smiling as Jess set down their drinks. “Started out as a deli, and then they expanded to the restaurant. Helped me stay out of trouble while I was in school and helped me pay for me first pair of proper cleats.”

Liam ripped up some naan bread. “My first job was bagging groceries at Sainsbury’s when I was sixteen. Long hours and shit pay, but I loved it?” He said, scooping up some of the curry. “Helped me save money for uni and it’s where I met some of me best mates.”

Zayn scooped up some of the massala and took a bite, moaning softly. “We did good on this, yeah?”

Liam nodded, picking up his beer. “This was a great idea,” he replied, smiling around the lip of the bottle. 

“I have those sometimes.”

They ate and drank, talking about their personal lives and laughing quietly with one another, as if the whole world around them didn’t exist. Zayn loved listening to Liam talk about his family and life in Wolverhampton, along with his time with Arsenal. 

Liam enjoyed working out, which wasn’t a surprise to Zayn, but he was surprised to find out that Liam was an avid boxer and runner as well.

“I got bullied a lot when I was a kid,” he explained as he wiped his mouth with his napkin before balling it up to place on the table. “So me mum set me up with boxing lessons, and I joined a running group to help with endurance. It wasn’t just about self defense, but about patience and respect.”

“So you’re telling me not only are you incredibly fit, but you could probably kick my arse?” Zayn asked, quirking a brow. “That’s really not fair.”

Liam laughed, knocking his knees to Zayn’s. “Unless you give me a reason to kick your arse I think you’re pretty safe, babe.”

Zayn tucked his chin into his chest, grinning to himself at the pet name. It sounded wonderful passing from Liam’s lips. He glanced up through lowered lashes, licking over his lower lip. “You wanna get out of here? Got one more place I wanna take you, if that’s okay.”

Liam nodded, shifting a little to reach for his wallet, to which Zayn reached out and tapped his forearm. 

“It’s already taken care of, Li,” he said, patting Liam gently. 

“But…” Liam’s jaw dropped a little. “Zayn, it’s the twenty-first century. At least let me -”

Zayn laughed, pushing back his seat. “You can pay for the next thing, then,” he offered, holding out his hand. “C’mon.”

They said their goodbyes to Minal, Bobby and Jess, with Zayn promising to bring his family in for dinner soon, while Liam thanked Minal for their hospitality. As they left, Zayn reached for Liam’s hand, linking their fingers gently, blushing when Minal and Jess cooed.

They walked out into the night, hand in hand, with Zayn leading them towards one of his favourite spots in the city. It felt good to be home, where he wasn’t just a name, but a member of the community, and not every movement he made would be tracked and on twitter within seconds. 

The walk wasn’t a long one: just a few blocks away from the restaurant. They stopped in front of a bar called Track and Field, to which Liam quirked a brow. 

“You trying to get me drunk on a Sunday, Malik?” He asked, squeezing Zayn’s fingers.

Zayn snorted, tugging him close. “Maybe. As long as I’m not doing sprints in the morning….”

Liam looked thoughtful for a moment, making Zayn groan playfully, pulling him into the bar.

The space was huge, with 2 bocce ball ‘lawns’ situated on one side, and a long bar on the other. There were high-top tables littered about the area, and one wall held a whole bunch of board games.

“Me sister Doniya said this place opened up last year,” Zayn said as they made their way over to the bar. “And it’s pretty sick. We can just have a drink if you’d like, as I know nothing about bocce ball.”

Liam leaned his hip up against the bar, taking in the whole place. “S’nice in here,” he said, head bopping in time with the music. “Think we should give it a go, though: don’t think it can be super hard.”

The bartender came up to them, and Liam inquired about bocce ball. The bartender then pulled out a box of red and blue balls and slid them across the bar. “One of the lawns is open, and it’s free of charge: so you can go right ahead and play!”

Liam glanced over at Zayn, who lifted a shoulder to shrug, biting the corner of his lip. “Let’s do it.”

Liam beamed at him, and turned back to the bartender to order up a round of drinks, nudging Zayn out of the way as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket to start a tab, mumbling something about ‘fair and mutual payment on dates’ which had Zayn cackling out loud.

As they waited for the drinks, Zayn took the bocce balls and made his way over to the empty lawn, and glanced over a ‘how to play’ plaque that was hung on the wall. 

“Excuse me?” A female voice cut through his thoughts. “Are you Zayn Malik?”

Zayn turned around, smiling softly. He was surprised at how long it took for someone to recognize him. Not that he had an ego about it, but more because Bradford wasn’t necessarily  _ big _ . “Ehm, yes?”

“Ohmygod, it is you,” the girl breathed, her green eyes wide. “I’ve been a fan ever since your days with Chelsea, and like - you’re the reason I went to uni and played footie. I hope it’s okay I came over, I just...you’re a big inspiration,” she gushed, her cheeks flushed pink.

Zayn laughed, and he felt warm all over. “Yeah? What uni?”

“I’m at King’s College - first team,” she smiled, shifting from foot to foot. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m meeting  _ Zayn freaking Malik _ .”

They continued to chat until Liam came up beside him, setting their drinks down on a table. The girl looked from Zayn, to Liam, then back again, and a little gasp passed her lips. “I’m interrupting,” she said quietly, as if the two of them were not wanting to be found out.

“Us? Not at all,” Zayn promised, glancing back to Liam. “But how about this: give me your information, and I’ll see about getting you and your team in to tour the stadium and see a match?”

Her eyes widened and she fumbled out a thank you before pulling a pen out of her purse to scribble her information down on a napkin, handing it over to him with a shake in her fingers. Zayn hugged her warmly, whispering for her to keep playing and thanking her for being a fan, and she practically skipped back to her friends after he let her go.

He turned back to Liam, who was watching him with a soft smile on his lips.

“What did I do?” Zayn asked, picking up the box of bocce balls again and stepping onto the artificial lawn. 

“You are quite possibly the nicest footballer I’ve ever met,” Liam said, picking up both drinks. 

Zayn grinned as he dumped the balls onto the grass. “I just like making people’s days, y’know? I have enough and giving back has always been a big deal to me.”

Liam offered up Zayn’s drink, and raised his own once Zayn’s fingers curled around his glass. “I think it’s amazing, like...you’re a proper superhero to people, and it’s just - it’s really cool,” Liam murmured, clinking their glasses together. 

“I’m just...I’m just me,” He mumbled, his cheeks warming under Liam’s praise and he brought the glass to his lips, letting the cool liquid settle him a little bit. He cleared his throat and set his glass down on the table beside the lawn, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, let’s figure this shit out.”

The first game was horrible, with the two of them fumbling through the rules and laughing so loudly that some people were starting to think they were crazy. It was nice, however, to have Liam’s hands on his waist, or around his wrist - just soft, gentle touches that were sending little currents of electricity over his skin.

By the third game, and two more drinks later, Liam was winning two games to one, and Zayn was exasperated.

“How did you - “ he threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t even know  _ how _ you did that.”

Liam smirked, tossing his red ball up and down with ease. “I think I finally have the hang of this game,” he mused, wriggling his thick eyebrows.

“I don’t, I kick things for a living,” Zayn pouted, tossing his ball to where he thought it should go, and cursing loudly when it knocked his closest ball further away from the pallino, and Liam’s ball closer. “I give up.”

Zayn felt fingers curl around his wrist and he was suddenly turned and backed up towards the wall, Liam’s soft chuckle in his ear. “Does that mean I win?” Liam murmured, his dark eyes bright, even in the low lighting.

Zayn mused, chin tilting up slightly, even though they were fairly evenly matched when it came to height. “I thought this was just a friendly match to get to know each other better?”

Liam snorted. “I  _ can _ be a little competitive,” he admitted, releasing Zayn’s wrist to slide his hand into Zayn’s.  “Though it’s good to know there is one thing I am better than you at. Evens the playing field considerably.”

Zayn hummed, enjoying the weight of Liam’s body against his own. “Ok, so: you win,” he conceded, quirking a brow. “What do you want as your prize?”

The smile that spread over Liam’s face was megawatt, but he said nothing and simply squeezed Zayn’s fingers for a moment before untangling them to go and pick up the balls and put them back in the box. Zayn leaned against the wall, watching as Liam went back to the bar to give them back to the bartender and pay their tab.

He admired Liam from this angle, watched the way the muscles in his shoulders and back moved as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He could hear Liam’s laugh, and it set a fire low in his belly, and he sucked his lower lip in between his teeth. He knew it was only one date, and he couldn’t read too much into it, but he could see himself falling for Liam and he didn’t know if that thought terrified him or excited him.

Liam weaved his way back through the bar, and Zayn pushed himself off the wall to meet him halfway. “Ready to get out of here?” Liam asked, tilting his head towards the exit.

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walked back towards Liam’s apartment, their hands swinging side by side, until Zayn’s fingertips caught Liam’s once more. There was something about holding hands with Liam that felt natural, like this was something Zayn had been missing out on and if he could have that feeling for a little while longer, he was going to take it.

“This was…” Liam sighed as they stopped across the street from his apartment building. “This was good, right?”

“This was really good,” Zayn confirmed, resting his bum on the side of his car. “And, I think I’d like to do it again sometime?”

Liam crowded into his space, hands settled on his hips. “Are you asking?” He said lowly, a soft quirk to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m asking,” Zayn murmured, sliding his hands up Liam’s forearms. “Are you saying yes?”

Liam’s thumbs pressed gently into his hipbones as he inched closer, lips brushing Zayn’s.

The kiss was soft,  _ like first kisses should be _ , Zayn thought as he smiled against Liam’s mouth before kissing him back, his fingers curling around Liam’s biceps. Their noses bumped one another, making Liam laugh and rub them together for a moment before sponging soft kisses to Zayn’s lips.

“Is this…” Zayn whispered into the kisses. “Is this a yes?”

“This is a hell yes,” Liam murmured back, squeezing Zayn for a moment before stepping back. 

Zayn took a shaky breath, releasing his hold on Liam’s arms to brush his fingers through his hair. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” Liam agreed, leaning in once more to press a chaste kiss to Zayn’s lips. “Text me when you get home? Please?”

Zayn nodded, grinning. “Okay.”

He watched as Liam skipped backwards towards his building, a warmth radiating through his chest. He had to will himself not to go chasing after him, to ask to come up for a night cap. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, fishing around for the key fob to his car and almost jumping a mile when the alarm startled him.

Just as Liam got to the entrance to his building, he turned to face Zayn once more. “Best prize ever,” he called out, making Zayn laugh out loud. “Night, Zed.”

“G’night, babe,” he replied, smiling to himself as he got into his car.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> I'm also sorry it's shorter than the last two chapters. I needed to give you guys something for waiting so patiently. 
> 
> I understand if you hate me. I still love you for reading. x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is NSFW.

“I still can’t believe you did this, mate.”

Zayn lolled his head against the back of the chair he was sitting in, eyes slanting over to Louis, who occupied the seat next to him.

“Did what?” He asked, quirking a brow.

Louis snorted. “This!” He exclaimed, sitting up to gesture to Zayn’s property. “Coming back to Bradford, settling into a nice home. You even have food in your fridge. Fuck, it’s almost as though you’re a _real adult_ now.”

Zayn brought his water bottle up to his lips, hiding the smile on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled before taking a long pull. 

“My little Zaynie has gone and become domesticated,” Louis crooned, propping his feet up on Zayn’s table.  “A little birdie told me you’ve got a man now, too?”

Zayn nearly choked on his water, coughing slightly as he set the bottle down. “Does Niall tell you everything?” He asked, frowning. 

“Of course he does,” Louis replied, unaffected. “I think he’s just happy he doesn’t have to set you up on dates anymore.”

 Zayn gazed out onto his backyard, teeth digging into his lower lip. He wasn’t annoyed by it, really. Niall was a Chatty Kathy when he wanted to be, and he knew his best mate and agent just wanted to see him happy. And truly, he was. His life was finally rounding out the way he wanted it to.

“it’s sorta new?” Zayn admitted after a long moment, a soft smile on his lips. “Like, we haven’t been able to see each other much or anything because of practices and shit, and now with the beginning of the season…I don’t know, but it’s new and for once I don’t have to yell at Niall for his poor matchmaking abilities.”

Louis cackled, the sound so warm to Zayn’s ears. The two of them were partners in crime, though Louis was a far more accomplished and revered player than he’d ever be. When they were kids, they grew up going to the same soccer camps and invitationals, played against one another a lot, and became fast friends. Adding Niall to the mix just added fuel to the fire, and they were a force to be reckoned with.

When Louis was drafted to Manchester United, and Zayn to Chelsea, they kept their friendship going but certainly played up the idea of a ‘rivalry’ on the pitch, much to the delight of sports media, fans and the internet. However, the two ran a charity event together every year, raising money towards a children’s hospital in London that Louis and his wife Cassandra were very invested in, as she was a doctor there.

“Seriously, though,” Louis cut through his thoughts, poking him in the shoulder. “It’s good to see you like this, all loved up and happy and shit.”

Zayn laughed, tilting his head back. The sun was setting, washing everything in hues of gold, pinks and reds. “Happy and shit,” he agreed, holding his fist out towards Louis. “Cheers, mate.”

Louis bumped his fist to Zayn’s, and they fell into a comfortable silence. “Next time you come up,” Zayn said, glancing over to Louis. “Bring Cass and Annie, yeah? Kind of missing that goddaughter of mine.”

Louis grinned, fishing his phone out of his back pocket. “They went go see Cass’ mum and dad this weekend, but Annie’s been babbling on about you and the jersey you sent her last week. You’re making me look like a dick because I told her she can’t wear it in public,” he said, thumbing through a few photos before handing the phone over to Zayn.

Zayn flipped through the pictures of Annabelle wearing the huge Bradford City home jersey he sent over. He chuckled to himself at the sheer look of delight on her face, her bright blue eyes a mirror image of Louis’, her mass of wavy sandy brown hair much like her mum’s. 

“She needs to stop growing,” Zayn frowned. “She’s what…five now?”

Louis sighed, snatching his phone back from Zayn’s fingers. “Don’t fucking remind me.”

—

The next day, Zayn dragged Liam to the animal shelter. 

“Remind me what we’re doing here again?”

Zayn glanced back at Liam, who was standing in front of a cage which held a scruffy looking dog, his lower lip pushed into a pout.

Zayn cleared his throat. “M’thinking of adopting a dog, yeah? Gonna need some company in that giant house…” he trailed off as he came to a stop in front another cage full of puppies. They were just under a month old and were various colours: black, grey, and tan. He crouched down to be at their level, grinning when a few toddled their way over to the bars. 

Zayn felt Liam’s fingers slide through the thick of his hair. “Have you had pets before?”

He tilted into Liam’s hand, letting his own fingers wriggle at a puppy who was eager to give him a lick. “A few, yeah. Had a dog and a cat growing up, and I bought myself a Lizard when I was playing for Chelsea? He died like, two years ago, though,”

Liam hummed softly, plunking down next to Zayn. “Had a few dogs growing up: golden labs and the like. Never could bring myself to get one when I was in school or working with Arsenal - was gone so much that I would’ve felt bad leaving it alone so much.”

Zayn grinned when a slate grey puppy with blue eyes licked at his fingertips, nudging its nose to  Zayn’s hand. “I like this guy.”

“He seems to like you,” Liam agreed, scratching his dull nails under the puppy’s jaw. “Makes two of us.”

Zayn snorted, shoving his shoulder to Liam’s. “Cheesy.”

Liam turned his face to Zayn’s, grinning at him widely before he leaned in and pressed soft lips to Zayn’s jaw. “What’re you gonna name him?”

Zayn blinked, hand stilling. “Name him?” 

Zayn felt the curve of a smile against his skin. “Mhmmm,” Liam murmured, shifting one arm around Zayn’s waist. “I mean, you’ve got all that great space, and this little guy seems to like you, and you him…why not bring him home?”

“Season starts tomorrow, though,” Zayn sighed, thumbing across the bridge of the puppy’s nose. “I’m not gonna be home…”

“I’ll help,” Liam interjected, settling his chin to Zayn’s shoulder. “Any chance I can. And once he’s big enough, we can take him with us on road trips.”

Zayn’s skin grew warm. He liked the idea of himself and Liam owning a dog together. It made their relationship seem a little more concrete, a little more whole. They’d not been dating for long, but Zayn had a feeling that Liam was a ‘long haul’ kind of guy, and Zayn was ready to hitch on. 

“We, huh?” Zayn teased, quirking a brow, enjoying the way Liam’s arm squeezed tighter around him. 

“Well, I mean…” Liam’s eyes grew wide, a pretty shade of pink tinting the apples of his cheeks. “I don’t just want to assume things, like, but I figured it was a nice natural progression into our relationship and maybe I should have gotten you a plant first….”

Zayn burst out laughing.

—

Liam had Zayn pinned up against the wall in the hallway leading towards the kitchen.

Their kisses were slow and deep, noses bumping, hands trying to find some purchase, some way to anchor themselves to each other. Zayn felt as though he was on fire: consumed by flames each time Liam’s fingers found an inch of skin he’d not explored yet, while his own hands gripped at Liam’s shoulders tightly, making soft noises into the other man’s mouth when Liam’s hips ground into his own.

“Get…this… _Liam_ ,” Zayn gasped as he pried his lips away, sliding his hands down the backside of Liam’s shirt, gripping at it. “Off! Take it off…”

Liam chuckled, breath warm on Zayn’s face. “Go on, then.”

Liam stepped back so that Zayn had more room to tug Liam’s shirt over his torso, waiting for him to lift his arms so he could fully pull it off. Zayn’s eyes wandered Liam’s frame - he was broad shouldered, lean and made of pure muscle: and Zayn could tell Liam worked hard for it.

Zayn tossed the shirt haphazardly down the hallway, then let his hands dip into the waistband of Liam’s jeans, tugging him closer. “Can’t believe you want to get a _dog_ with me,” he muttered, grinning when his forehead bumped Liam’s chin. 

“If I knew this was the reaction I’d get from you,” Liam murmured into Zayn’s skin, lips grazing his hairline, “I’d have suggested it sooner.”

Zayn’s fingers fumbled with the drawstring on Liam’s joggers, untying them quickly to tug the waistband loose, while Liam kept light pressure on his forehead with soft kisses and an easy grip on his hips. Zayn hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged the joggers down, his brow furrowing when they caught on Liam’s thighs. 

“Jesus, did you do leg day yesterday?” Zayn huffed out, making Liam laugh. 

They finally pooled at Liam’s ankles, and Liam lifted one foot, then kicked the joggers down the hall with his other foot to meet his shirt. 

“Just…let me…” Zayn began, shifting out of Liam’s grip until he could sink down to the floor, on his knees. He glanced up to Liam, eyes glossed over as the other man looked down upon him.

Zayn had a pretty strict ‘no sex before match days’ rule, but it didn’t say anything about showing his man how much he appreciated him.

Zayn reached up and curled his fingers into the elastic of Liam’s white boxer briefs, his eyes leaving Liam’s to admire the bulge in front of him. He pulled the underwear down slowly, catching his lower lip between his teeth as the wiry hairs around the base of Liam’s cock became visible, enjoying the slow and the shaky exhale of breath that Liam took as Zayn dragged the material down further to expose Liam’s growing erection.

This time, he left the underwear snug around Liam’s thighs.

Zayn’s fingers curled softly around the base of Liam’s cock, eliciting a low groan from the other man. “Can I?” He asked, glancing up as he stroked Liam to hardness, licking over his lips.

Liam nodded, letting fingers curl into Zayn’s hair. 

Zayn tilted into the touch for a moment, letting his loose fist around Liam’s cock slide up towards the head, before he leaned in to lick over the slit, making a low noise back in his throat at the taste, and the way Liam’s hand seemed to tighten in his hair. Zayn pursed his lips, sponging soft kisses to the head of Liam’s cock, his hand keeping up a slow stroke. 

“Tease,” Liam rumbled, though Zayn could hear the smile in his voice. He blinked up at Liam owlishly, the corners of his lips twitching into a little grin, before he suckled the head of Liam’s cock into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

It had been a while for Zayn - longer than he was willing to think about - since he’d been on his knees for someone. He swirled his tongue around the head for a moment, his eyes opening slowly once more as he took Liam deeper, his hand uncurling from Liam’s cock to settle on the back of his thigh. 

He marvelled at the look on Liam’s face as he tilted his chin up a little to suck him down a little further, eyes watering when the tip of Liam touched the back of his throat.

“Shit, Zayn…” Liam hissed, tugging Zayn’s head back softly. “Easy, yeah?”

Zayn popped off Liam’s cock with a soft gasp, squeezing the back of Liam’s thigh a little. “S’fine…I want…” he murmured, taking Liam back into his mouth and letting his eyes fall closed.

Liam’s breathing was heavy. Zayn’s mouth was warm and wet around his prick, his lips were swollen and red, as though Zayn had been sucking on an ice lolly. Liam watched the way Zayn’s head bobbed up and down on his cock, the way his eyelashes fluttered across the apples of his cheeks, and it made Liam’s stomach muscles tighten.

“C’n I…” Liam rasped out, holding Zayn’s head still for a moment as he let his hips push forward, making Zayn whine at the back of his throat. Liam felt the encouraging nudge of Zayn’s hand against the back of his thigh, and Liam tightened his grip in Zayn’s hair as he began to fuck his mouth slowly.

“Christ, Zayn, your mouth is so good…” Liam groaned, his other hand joining the first in Zayn’s hair, using it as an anchor as he watched his cock slide in and out of Zayn’s mouth. He pulled himself almost all the way out, letting the tip of his prick sit heavy against Zayn’s lower lip, pupils blown wide as Zayn licked a broad tongue over the slit before suckling Liam back into his mouth. “Proper loving this aren’t you, babe?”

Zayn could only moan out a response, his free hand curving around the swell of his own cock, still confined in his jeans. He was painfully hard: he could feel the dampness of precome seeping through the denim, and he lazily squeezed and rubbed himself as he worked over Liam’s cock.

The doorbell ringing startled Liam first. His hands froze in Zayn’s hair, curling tighter into the locks as he swore under his breath. “Zed, babe…stop for a sec…”

Zayn made a low noise in his throat, reluctantly sliding his mouth from around Liam’s prick. “S’probably just a canvasser…” he rasped out, blinking wet eyelashes up at a panicked Liam. “Ignore it.”

“A canvasser?” Liam asked, deadpan. His eyes were like saucers, however, and gave away his fear of being caught out in Zayn’s hallway with no trousers on and Zayn’s mouth around the head of his dick. “At half ten in the evening?”

Zayn sighed, resting his forehead to Liam’s thigh. “Maybe they’re ambitious.”

The doorbell rang again, and then, “Zayn! It’s Niall - forgot me key and we have to talk about the community centre before tomorrows match, mate! Know you’re home, car’s out front….”

“Shit,” Liam groaned, tugging on Zayn’s hair. “Know you two are close but m’not ready for Horan to see me bollocks…”

Zayn laughed into the warmth of Liam’s skin, nuzzling his nose to the apex of where hip met thigh. “Alright then, off with you. My bedroom - and keep that thing warm for me, yeah?” He sighed, releasing his hold on Liam as he rested back on his haunches. 

Zayn enjoyed the blush that rose up Liam’s neck to his cheeks, and even moreso when Liam stepped back and leaned down to kiss him square on the mouth. “S’not all I’ll keep warm,” Liam grinned, wriggling his brows as he stepped back and waddled towards his discarded joggers while also trying to pull up his pants. 

Zayn watched Liam make his way up the stairs, a soft look on his face, until the doorbell rang again. He rumbled out a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face before dropping it to his crotch to give his aching erection a squeeze. “Steady on there, fella,” he muttered as he pulled himself up off the ground and made his way to his front door.  He unlocked it with a flourish, finding Niall standing on his porch. 

He leaned up against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Half ten, Ni? Really?” He admonished, attempting to look cross at his oldest friend. “Y’know it’s a game night.”

"When did that ever stop me from popping by? I'm your agent, you shit." Niall looked him over, electric blue eyes analyzing Zayn in a way that Zayn could only describe as _uncomfortable_. Zayn shifted as Niall’s eyes drifted south. “Does your dick know it’s game nig-oh. _OH,_ ” Niall gasped, looking scandalized as he staggered back, shocked. “You little hussy…”

Zayn shook his head, and this time it was his turn to blush. He opened the door a little more to let his agent in. “You’re so fired. I swear to god…”

—

**{Opening day: Bradford City v. Coventry}**

Zayn stood in the hallway that lead to the pitch, hands clenched into tight fists at his side, a light sheen of sweat on his brow. It was opening day: a day that always set Zayn on edge, no matter how many years he’d been in the league.

The roar of the fans in the stands was deafening. It shook the walls, and rattled Zayn just that little bit more, made his palms sweaty and his heart race. If the adrenaline coursing through his system wasn’t going to kill him, the nerves certainly would.

Niall was practically skipping down the hall, humming some sort of tune, and Zayn glanced in his direction, eyes weary.

“Christ, Malik: it’s like you’ve never played before,” Niall commented, adjusting the lanyard around his neck as he came to a stop in front of Zayn. “What’s gotten into your pants?”

Zayn heaved out a deep breath. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” he replied, rubbing his hands over his face. “I didn’t even feel like this in me first year with Chelsea.”

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was playing his first game back with a team that had taken a chance on him. Maybe it was the fact that he was getting on in age and didn’t have the stamina he once had. Maybe…. _maybe_ a tiny part of his brain was telling him he couldn’t - and shouldn’t - do this anymore.

“I think…” he mumbled into his hands, sinking down against the wall until his arse touched the floor. “I think I _am_ going to throw up.”

He felt the warmth of Niall’s body settle next to him, an arm slinging around his shoulders. “You’re not gonna throw up,” Niall began, squeezing him lightly. “In fact, you’re gonna take a few deep breaths, you’re then going to stand up, and you’re going to take the pitch like the rockstar you are. You know why? Because you’re Zayn fucking Malik, and I don’t get a bonus if you don’t get your skinny, non-existent arse out onto that field.”

Zayn snorted into his palms, before breaking out into laughter. His whole body shook with it and he leaned heavily into Niall’s side for a moment, dropping his hands into his lap. “Even if I didn’t make it onto the pitch, I’d give you your bonus anyway.”

“Bless,” Niall snorted, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of Zayn’s. “Y’still got a few minutes: you gonna be okay?”

Zayn nodded, patting his mates knee. “Gonna smash it.”

Niall grinned and squeezed him once more before hoisting himself off the ground and made his way down the hall towards the stands. Zayn had reserved a block of seats for a few close friends from school, and of course - his family. 

First game back in his hometown, and it was sure to be a good one.

“Zayn? What are you doing on the ground?”

He glanced in direction of the voice, a warm smile slipping over his features. “Ah, you know - just trying to gather my thoughts before my first match,” he shrugged, tucking his knees to his chest. “Or maybe hoping people forget I’m here…”

Liam crouched down in front of him, his large hands settling on Zayn’s knees. “Impossible to forget you’re here, babe. The fans have practically changed every line to Claret and Amber…”

Zayn paled. “That’s not helping,” he murmured, his heart suddenly in his throat. “Definitely not helping…”

Liam laughed, squeezing his knees. “What would help?”

Zayn settled his hands atop Liam’s, fingertips trailing along his inked skin. He let them smooth up Liam’s forearms, before curling under his elbows, gripping him there gently. “A kiss, maybe?” He asked shyly, watching Liam’s reaction carefully.

Liam’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and he leaned forward, squeezing Zayn’s knees once more. “Oh I think I can manage…”

Zayn surged forward to press his lips to Liam’s, enjoying the soft intake of breath from the other man. They’d shared many kisses since their first date, but there was something soft and intimate in this moment - a moment between the two of them, where all the noise, all the hype and stress seemed to fade away, and a feeling of peace and calm settled over Zayn, despite the erratic thump of his heart. 

Liam’s nose bumped his, breaking the moment with a soft laugh. He pulled back slightly, dark eyes wide, though Zayn believed he could see _galaxies_ in their depths. “Wow.”

Zayn grinned back, thumbs pressing into the soft creases of Liam’s elbows. “Wow,” he echoed, resting his head back against the wall. “I expect more of this after the game.”

“I still maintain that sex _before_ a match could be beneficial to an athlet-“

Zayn cackled, silencing Liam’s words with another kiss.

—

Zayn ran next to the defender, his brow covered in sweat as he went for the ball. His focus was solely on getting the ball to his teammate, who was a few feet behind him, calling out his name. 

“Z! On your right!” 

Zayn pumped his legs faster, trying to cut in front of the defender, his tongue pressed against his lower lip. The defender, reached out to stick his arm across Zayn’s chest, trying to prevent him from getting any closer, their legs tangling…

And that’s when it happened.

Zayn heard the _pop_ first, before a shooting pain ran up the back of his calf. It was so severe that he cried out and crumpled to the ground, hands automatically grasping for his leg.

He pressed his face into the wet grass, gritting his teeth as he tried not to scream.

Everything else blurred. He didn’t hear the ref blow the whistle, or the other player yelling ‘I barely touched him!’. All He could hear was the blood rushing through his ears, and the constant thrum of _no no no no_ in his mind.

He knew it was bad.

Liam was over to him in seconds - but to Zayn it felt like _hours_. The crowd had gone silent - only a murmur of concern.

“Zayn? Zayn I’m here, I got you,” Liam said, close to his ear. “Where did you….”

“My leg. I felt…” Zayn cut him off, his fingers uncurling from his calf to wrap around Liam’s wrist. His eyelashes were wet, clumped together. “It popped. I can’t move it.”

“Shit,” Liam breathed, shifting down Zayn’s curled up form. 

Zayn watched as Liam motioned for the rest of his team, before turning back to Zayn, his dark eyes warm, though Zayn knew the look. 

“Zayn, I’ll have to roll down your sock to check for sure,” He continued. 

Zayn nodded, his eyes screwing shut. His fingers let Liam’s wrist go, only to bring both hands up to press into his eyes.

Liam’s hands were gentle against his leg, curling into his knee-high sock as he pulled it down and over his calf, settling it around his ankle. Zayn let out a low whine as Liam pressed practiced fingers against his tendon, murmuring _‘it’s okay, I’ve got you.’_

“Kyle, I need you to grab the stretcher - and call Dr. Harrison to let him know Zayn will be coming in to the hospital as soon as possible,” Liam murmured to his team. He then turned his attention back to Zayn. “Zayn, it is your tendon. We’ve got the stretcher coming and we’ll be taking you straight to the hospital for tests. Ok?'

Zayn held back a sob. This wasn’t happening. This was supposed to be his year - this wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Zayn, babe. Gotta answer me.” Liam cut through his haze. “I’m gonna take care of you, but I still need your help.”

“Ok,” Was all Zayn could whisper, hands still pressed to his eyes. His chest felt heavy.

Liam moved away from him them, calling for people to give them space to work. Zayn turned to his back, his hands still over his face, trying to calm his emotions. The pain had dulled considerably, though he knew there was something out of sorts. The muscle in his leg felt loose, and he couldn’t wriggle his toes.

He bit the inside of his cheek. What good was a football player - when they didn’t have the ability to use their feet?

Liam’s medical team worked quickly, getting him onto the stretcher and off the pitch in record time. Zayn lifted his hand in a small wave, to which the crowd came to their feet, giving him an ovation as the medical staff carried him through the tunnel.

They got him into the ambulance, and Zayn’s shoulders sagged, his body finally catching up with his mind. He was emotionally and physically drained, his throat dry and aching as he held back his tears.

This was it. This was his career. Gone in the blink of an eye.

Liam climbed into the cabin with the paramedic, and sat next to Zayn on the bench. He reached out and squeezed Zayn’s thigh.

Zayn turned to him, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “How bad is it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Liam squeezed again. “A full tear is significantly better than a partial one. Repairing is a lot easier, and full recovery is expected,” He replied, voice warm. “It’ll take some time, and hard work: but you’ll get back. I promise.”

Zayn just nodded, turning his head to face the back of the ambulance, his teeth finding purchase on his lower lip. Liam’s hand was a warm anchor against his leg, squeezing every so often - a little reminder that he was there for Zayn.

They reached the hospital, where Doctor Harrison was there waiting for them.

Liam explained the injury, while Zayn came in and out of their conversation, not really paying attention. His mind was on other things: like the fact that his family had been in the stands.

He let out a soft groan, and reached for Liam’s wrist.

Liam stopped talking and turned to face him. “What’s up, Zayn? Are you feeling any more pain? They’re prepping staff for your surgery n-“

“Me family - they were…they were in the stands,” he murmured, fingers squeezing Liam’s wrist tightly. “Can you call them for me, please?”

Liam’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “Had Niall do that already - they’ll be here as soon as they can.”

Zayn felt something settle in his bones, and he looked up at Liam with gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks, Li.”

The doctor turned to him then, a kind smile on his weathered face. Doctor Harrison was known across the league as one of the best: Zayn knew he was in good hands. 

They explained to him the procedure, while Liam handed him a clipboard to fill out any missing information. Most of the big things went over his head, but there was one detail that made his chest hurt.

“…Recovery time varies by patient. In most cases, however - you’re looking at a six month recovery period. You can begin therapy as early as three weeks,” Doctor Harrison said, glancing at Zayn from above his spectacles.

Zayn tried to swallow past a lump that formed in his throat. Six months was the season. “Six months?” He asked, curling his fingers against his thighs. He was still dressed in his kit - muddied and wet from the game. 

Doctor Harrison nodded. “Tendons need the time to re-knit and heal properly. If you don’t take the time, you could damage it permanently.”

He could feel Liam’s eyes on him, watching his reaction carefully. Zayn couldn’t look up - everything felt heavy. He was tired, yet there was a current running over his skin: anxiety, maybe, that wouldn’t let him settle.

Liam’s hand rested on his shoulder, thumb pressing into his collarbone. It soothed him, anchored him back into reality, and Zayn brought his hand up to wipe a tear off his cheek.

“It’ll be okay, babe,” Liam murmured, like a mantra.

“Li, I was okay _before,_ ” Zayn replied, brows knitting together. “Now I’m just…”

Liam’s thumb pressed a little harder into his collarbone, forcing Zayn to look up. He sucked in a breath at the look on Liam’s face. Liam’s eyes were dark, eyebrows set in a frown. Zayn wasn’t sure if Liam was about to lecture him or slap him, and he wasn’t sure which he’d prefer at that moment.

“You’re still Zayn Malik,” Liam said quietly. “You’re still one of the best midfielders that England has ever seen. This is just a roadblock, and one that is easily overcome with a little bit of patience and time. You’ll see.”

Zayn tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, nodding softly. He felt stupid for being so emotional over a game, but this game was all he knew. He couldn’t be anything else - and what good would be be to any team when there was the possibility that he’d never be the same again?

“Zayn? I promise that I will do everything I can to get you back to where you are right now. You’re in top physical condition, and we’ll work together to make you even better. I promise, okay?” Liam continued after Zayn went quiet. There was worry written all over his face, and Zayn reached up to cup Liam’s cheek, a thumb tracing over Liam’s lower lip. 

How could you agree, when it wasn’t something you _felt_?

“Okay,” Zayn replied, voice soft. “And thank you, Li. Proper rockstar out there…if it wasn’t for your quickness, I don’t…”

“Don’t go there,” Liam shushed him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Zayn’s mouth. “You’re going to be better than fine, you’ll see.” 

Doctor Harrison re-emerged once more, this time with a nurse and the anesthesiologist. He cleared his throat, and the pair of them turned their eyes to the older man. “We’re ready for you, Mr Malik, in the surgery. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours, to which you’ll be taken to a private recovery room at the request of your rather feisty agent.”

Liam snorted a laugh while Zayn ducked his chin into his chest. Of course Niall would.

“I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?” Liam murmured, squeezing Zayn’s wrist gently. “Just realized this’ll be my first proper meeting with your family, so I’ll let you know how that goes, too.”

Zayn groaned. “Try not to get eaten alive by m’sisters. Niall won’t save you,” he replied, a shake in his voice. 

Liam pressed another kiss Zayn’s temple, fingers uncurling from Zayn’s wrist with a murmured ‘be strong, love, I know you can’, before the nurse wheeled them away.

Zayn settled back against the pillow, watching the lights on the ceiling as they passed him by. The doctor kept up a dialogue, explaining the procedure once more, though Zayn was hardly paying attention. His mind had wandered to his career, to the fans and kids he was letting down, and to his family. 

He nodded when the doctor asked him if he understood that he would be put under for the surgery, to reduce complications. He was tired, and it felt as though he was already having an out-of-body experience: what did it matter to him?

He barely flinched when they fit him with an IV. “Zayn, we’re gonna count down from ten together, okay? You’ll feel a little woozy…”

Zayn nodded again, and began to count. “Ten, nine, eight…” a shimmer around the edges of his vision. “Seven, six…”

And then everything went black.


End file.
